


Blink Back to Let Me Know

by clippedwingsandshotguns



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Boys In Love, Depression, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mental Illness, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Slow Fucking Burn, Suicide Attempt, but it starts all good and soft, drug usage, essentially connor doesnt die when he attempts suicide and shit happens from there??, it's gonna be sad tho so buckle in, it's like pretty gay, suicide ideation, theyre crushing so hard on each other smh, this is gonna be a long thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clippedwingsandshotguns/pseuds/clippedwingsandshotguns
Summary: Connor Murphy never expected to survive past the first day of senior year, but he fucks everything up, so why would a suicide attempt be any different? There's some sort of a silver lining though, because his parents found his 'suicide note', and now they've concluded that Evan and him are friends. It could be worse.Evan Hansen never expected his tree expertise to extend into floral proficiency, but he found himself buying flowers for one (1) Connor Murphy. Evan also never expected to be having full conversations with him.Looks like senior year is going to be full of surprises for both of them.Note: This fic is currently on hold due to exams, and the next chapter(s?) are currently incomplete.





	1. a regular decorated emergency

It's way too bright when Connor opens his eyes, and fuck, his head is spinning and his skin burns and where the fuck was he? Still squinting, his face contorts in pain as he tries to get up but his body isn't responding. His bones are as heavy as lead, and it's hard to get up when he was still having trouble figuring out which way was up. Frantic and scared, Connor forces himself to move. He pushes himself back with his arms and shit, fuck, his arms are burning and his head hurts and fuck, fuck, fuck— and suddenly, someone's next to him and he knows that voice but he can't hear what she's saying. He feels a hand stroking his hair and it isn't his own, so it has to be his mother, and she's talking to him, and he vaguely makes out the words like "here" and "alright" and his head is still too much of a fucking mess to figure out what the hell she's saying but she sounds comforting and the hand on his forehead is nice. He vaguely hears footsteps, and then the pain is dulling and so are his senses, and he falls back asleep.

When he wakes again, it's not on his own. A hushed conversation has rapidly turned into a shouting competition and Connor's feeling significantly better than he did when he first woke up. It's still too bright, but it's probably evening now, because the skies outside the window has turned lilac, and the fluorescent lights are much more bearable without the additional sun rays. He sees Zoe, and she's in a chair, hugging her knees with a stone-cold expression on her face. She doesn't seem to notice he's awake yet, and her eyes are fixed on the loud conversation.

The conversation is still too loud for Connor's liking, because he feels like he's had the worst hangover in his life, and the increasing volume of his parents do nothing to alleviate this. He's not feeling particularly inclined to listen, but he doesn't really have a choice.

"Do him some good? You think your babying him has done him any good? We should've just sent him off to bootcamp!"

"And what, THAT'S going to fix him? Bootcamp? Why not just kick him to the streets then? Is it so hard for you to believe that maybe he just needs help?"

"We've done everything we can to help him!"

"Like telling him he was acting out for attention? That's really helpful, Larry!"

Connor feels sick to his stomach. Usually, when his parents fight over him, he'd be quick to say 'stop fucking talking about me as if I'm not right here', but right now, his throat feels dry and he's not sure he can even say anything. He just really, really wants to tune this all out right now.

And suddenly it hits him, he knows why his parents are discussing his quickly deteriorating mental health, he knows why they're all there in his room, and why he's in bed in a room but the room looks nothing like his own. He looks to his arms and sees them in bandages. His left arm is hooked up to an IV drip. Zoe hides her face behind her knees and continues to stare blankly at nothing. His dad turns away and walks out the door, and his mom follows behind him, still yelling and on the verge of tears, and Connor can tell because she's no longer coherent, she's just shouting now.

If it was possible, Connor might actually be feeling worse than before. He feels disgusted to his very core, and so fucking disappointed that he couldn't get one thing right. He suddenly realises that Zoe is observing him. The look on her face says a single, unmistakable thing, and Connor knows exactly what she's thinking, because it's the only thing on his mind, too.

God, he wishes he hadn't survived.

* * *

Zoe had left the room soon after their parents had left, shouting and with Cynthia near hysterical. At the very least, this meant some peace and quiet for Connor, which was neither good nor bad. The quiet was something he could appreciate, given his hatred for insincere concern and judgemental silence, also known as his mom and dad, respectively. But in a hospital, there wasn't much to do, and the plain white walls, decorated with a few medical posters of the human respiratory tract and the likes, did nothing to alleviate his boredom. Even worse, his arms itched, and despite all logic, he was dying to scratch at the scars, but being bandaged made that unlikely. Plus, he didn't want to spend more time here because he went and scratched open some stitches or something stupid like that. So instead, he stared at his arms, willing them to stop itching so much. Failing to achieve anything, he gave up and stared up at the ceiling. Sleep was unattainable, given he'd been unconscious for the better part of…he isn't actually sure how long he'd been unconscious for. But the point stood that he couldn't sleep, and had nothing to entertain himself with. Sardonic amusement passed through him, though he did nothing to show it, as he reflected to himself that the very hospital which saved him was going to cause him to die of boredom.

It's a while before someone enters, and Connor expects either a nurse or his overly-concerned mom, but instead, he's met with a familiar face that he would never have guessed to see.

"Um, h-hey, Connor," Evan greeted him, and Connor can see the sheer anxiety in his eyes, in the way he smiles, and the way he holds his hand up only half-way, as if unsure whether or not he should have bothered waving.

"Am I high?" Connor responds, instantly, because what the fuck?

"Uh, no or at least I don't think so? I don't think the nurses would let you be high in a hospital?" Evan said, smile widening out of what Connor assumes is discomfort.

"So why the fuck are you here?" and Connor almost feels bad because it comes out harsher than he'd intended but the question stands, so he doesn't bother to amend himself. 

"I- uh, I brought you flowers?" Evan offers as an unsatisfactory answer, but the kid isn't lying because he reveals a bouquet of small white flowers which he'd held behind his back for some reason.

Connor almost laughs, because first of all, this has to be some sort of a fever dream, and second of all, fucking flowers? That's priceless. What fucking weirdo visits Connor Murphy after an attempted suicide, and brings flowers?

But then he remembers. Evan fucking Hansen, the kid who wrote a letter to himself and printed it out so that he'd freak out and Evan could call him a psycho or a freak. This is probably some big joke by Jared fucking Kleinman. So Connor sets his jaw, and asks again. "The fuck are you here?" he spits out this time, and the anger in his voice startles Evan a little.

"Your uh. You took that letter from me-" Connor's glare hardens even further, "-and your parents found it thinking it was your uhm... y-your suicide note."

What?

"Yeah, it's uh, it's a really weird, funny story, actually?" Evan fidgets with the flowers, as if debating whether or not to put them down on the table, cautiously hand them over to Connor, or just hold onto them. "Well, uh, your parents found the letter that you took from me and they thought you wrote it to me as like, an uhm, a suicide note? Yeah, it's really funny," he says, in almost one breath and Connor's pretty impressed. Evan finally settles on leaving the bouquet on the table and then steps back, as if to stay out of Connor's reach, just in case.

"Ah, right, that letter. The one where you’re being a fucking creep about my sister," Connor says, casual at first but with venom in his voice when he says 'my sister', and Evan flinches again. Everything scares this kid - what was his deal?

"NO! I'm not— I'm. Not. Being a creep about your sister, I just—" and Connor stares blankly at Evan as he struggles with his words, "—she’s just someone who's gone out of her way to be nice to me and nobody else has really ever done that and so I thought it might be nice to know her, seeing as I don’t really have friends."

Connor raises an eyebrow, but remains otherwise deadpan. "Uh huh. Sure," he says, and he makes sure the disbelief is impossible to miss.

There's this awkward moment — awkward on Evan's end, because Connor's literally just got back from the dead and embarrassment isn't high on his list of priorities — that goes on as Evan digs his nails into the hem of his shirt, before he opens his mouth again. 

"Look I know you don’t want me here."

"Yup." 

"And I have no right to be here." 

"Yup."

"But I just wanted to— I wanted to let you know that I… That I get how you're feeling and I know what it's like."

Connor's expression remains unreadable, but only because of the years of practice he's had to keep it that way. His expression didn't betray the absolute anger he felt, as if someone had just set off a bomb inside him, and he could almost feel the rage pooling like a thick, viscous liquid inside his lungs. Because, really, he wasn't in the mood for this fucking bullshit. Nobody really gets what it's like to be Connor Fucking Murphy, the Resident Psychopath, and voted most likely to shoot up the school. Suddenly, whatever patience that had allowed Connor to even acknowledge Evan ran thin.

"You think you know what it's like, huh?" Connor starts laughing mirthlessly, and Evan knows he's fucked up.

"No, I don't mean-!"

"You think just because you've got some fucking sad story about how you weren't a part of something, how you wish you could just disappear, you think that means you get what it means to be me?"

"I don't mean it like that!"

"You don't fucking know me, Hansen! You don't know shit about what it's like to be me."

"I know! I just, I mean I know how you felt, h-how you're feeling!"

"Oh, really, Hansen? Prove it, then."

"Wha—"

"C'mon, tell me what it feels like."

"No— I don't want t—"

"Don't want to, or can't, Hansen?"

"No, I jus—"

"I'm fucking waiting!"

"I—"

"You said you know how it feels, then fucking prove it? The fuck do you know, Hansen!"

"I DIDN'T FALL!"

The room goes quiet, and the air hangs heavily around them.

"…what?"

"The tree. My arm, I…I didn't. I didn't fall, I let go."

"Oh. Oh, Christ. Fuck, uh, I didn't know," and Connor grimaces a little at his inability to apologise after acting like a complete asshole. Evan's still clutching the hem of his shirt like a lifeline, and Connor feels a little worse than he already did.

"Yeah, well, I didn't uh tell anyone." It's extremely awkward, even by Evan's standards, because suddenly all they can hear is both of their breathing, and Connor thinks that it's the kind of silence where you'd be able to hear a pin drop. Usually, Evan would change the subject, talk about anything if it got rid of a long stretch of silence because he just couldn't deal with those but instead, he just stood there, silent and unmoving. Connor's not one for breaking silences to begin with, so they just stand there in a stalemate, neither willing or able to say anything.

It's probably a solid minute before Evan seems to snap back into action. "I should— I should probably…go," he mumbles, and he doesn't bother to meet Connor's eyes at all before he turns towards the door, and suddenly the guilt that Connor had been ignoring returns with full force.

"Evan, wait." Connor doesn't shout this time, but he speaks clearly and loudly enough, and there's an insistence in the way he speaks that makes Evan stop, because yes, the anxiety is making him want to leave, but he's more anxious about missing out what Connor's about to say, because it sounds important, and this is the first time that Evan's been called 'Evan' instead of 'Hansen', so he can't help but feel a little hopeful that coming here hadn't been a huge mistake.

"I…I shouldn't have shouted at you," Connor starts, and it isn't an apology, not really, but it's the best he can manage right now. "Are you," and this really feels like a blow to his pride, because Connor hasn't asked things of people for a long time, and he's gotten used to getting 'no' for an answer, but he has to try, so he starts the question again. "Are you coming back tomorrow?"

It's unexpected. Evan thought for sure that the entire situation would have made Connor never want to look at him again, because God, he just admitted to being an emotionally unstable mess — which, yeah, would be hypocritical if Connor judged him for it, but that was besides the point — and had spent the better half of the minute standing in complete silence, so, yeah, Evan wasn't expecting an invitation to come back. 

"I… uh… yeah," and it was a really good thing that Evan still had his eyes glued to the floor because Connor didn't want Evan to see the way his body visibly relaxed at having asked for something and not be rejected, especially after having yelled and then failing to even be polite enough to offer a proper apology. There's another lull in the conversation, but this time it's short, and Evan brings himself to glance at Connor, forcing himself to make eye contact, even if only for a split second. "See you," he says, quietly, before walking out of the room.

Connor's emotionally exhausted now, and he thinks this whole thing has been bad enough to get him another couple hours of sleep, and he does.

* * *

When Connor wakes up, he notices his mom is in the room, talking quietly to a nurse, probably so as not to wake him up. He stares, not really willing to call attention to himself just yet, and when the nurse leaves, his mom realises he's awake and goes over to him. He can see her try to stop from just grabbing him and showering him with affections, because she knows he hates it, but it doesn't really stop her, because she has her hands on his face and if he wasn't so subdued from having woken up, he might have swatted her hands away. Instead, he casts his glance away from his mom, hoping she'll see his discomfort, and she does.

"So, when can I leave?"

He can see his mom still trying to hold back all the words and tears that she wants to let out, but to her credit, she answers his question. "They want to keep you here for another day, to make sure you're ready to leave, and also because, well, they're worried that you'll…"

Connor knows she won't finish her sentence, so he nods, to show he understands so she won't feel like she needs to say anything more.

"What did you and dad tell them?"

"Your father convinced them that this was a one-off thing, and without any medical history to prove otherwise, the hospital is willing to let you go sooner than they'd like to."

Connor's really thankful, partly because his mom hasn't cried onto him, and he thinks she's only managing that because she already did while he was unconscious, but he's glad nonetheless because he hates when his mom cries. Another part of him was thankful to be able to leave soon, because the hospital was so boring that he was sure it would do nothing to improve his mental health. But there's a last, quiet part of him that's disappointed. His dad had convinced the hospital that there was nothing wrong with him. Which meant that Connor wasn't going to get any kind of treatment for his fucked-up head, despite his current situation. There's a sigh he manages not to let out, because he doesn't want to be questioned as to why he's sighing, but he really shouldn't have expected things to change just because he tried to kill himself, what with Larry being the way he was. He lets out the sigh in a slow exhale, making sure it goes unheard.

"Can you leave me alone for now?" he asks, and it's rude, there's no 'please' or 'do you mind', and he can feel his mom retreat back into herself, as if she's suddenly remembered him, the psycho and not the son.

"Of course, Connor," she says, and they both pretend not to hear how her voice shakes, before she briskly leaves the room.

Connor regrets that he's still here. He regrets ever being born. If there's a single thing he's thankful for, it's that Zoe would more than make up for the loss of him, when he's gone. And he repeats the phrase "when I'm gone" in his head, because he's not stupid enough to think he'll live a long life. He's already planning how to make sure he gets this right the next time. He has to prepare for once he's back home. It's depressing, he knows, but one failed attempt doesn't stop him from feeling everything he'd felt when he'd done it. He knows for a fact that he's going to try again, whether it's in two days, or two weeks, or two months, or two years. These things don't go away, and if Larry still refuses to get him help now, then he's got no chance of making it out of here alive. So, Connor decides, it's only a matter of time.

* * *

Before nightfall, Connor's mom had stayed in his ward, but she'd kept to her seat opposite his bed and given him space. She had also brought over some books that he had in his room, which he'd gotten years ago but never threw out because of nostalgia, as stupid as that was for him to admit. She'd brought over his set of Harry Potter books, and told him she'd bring over others once he was done with the set, or if he didn't like them. He told her that they were fine, and they were. Connor hadn't touched the books in forever, but he knows that he had connected with the feeling of being an outcast in his own family. He understood that isolation, and he secretly longed for the feeling of belonging Harry had found within his chosen family of friends and trustworthy people. He figured it wouldn't hurt him to read the books again.

Cynthia left at nightfall, since visiting hours were officially over, and the nurse switched off the lights so that he could get his rest. He'd slept so much in the day that he doubted he'd be tired, so instead he asked a nurse to help him turn the lights back on so he could read. It passed the time much better than staring at the ticking clock in the dark, and Connor was thankful for something to occupy his thoughts.

At around 7am, he's still reading, and he's somewhere through the third book. A nurse shows up with breakfast, despite insisting he really didn't have an appetite. He forces down half of it and he hates all of it, and then he announces that he's given up eating it to a mildly displeased nurse. His sleep cycle seems fucked, he thinks, because he's tired now, at 7.30am and he finally wants to get some shut eye. He leaves a dog ear in his book — his ten-year-old self would have had an aneurysm — and then he lets himself drift off.

It's hours later when he wakes up — 4pm, he notes — and his mom isn't in his room. But someone else is, and he's just sitting quietly on the chair in his ward and staring at the floor. It's a bit shocking to wake up to, truth be told, because Connor had come to believe that his entire conversation with Evan had truly been a fever dream or wild hallucination or something of the sort. As it turns out, it wasn't, because Evan Hansen was there, in a plain polo shirt and jeans and he looks like he's trying not to sit too heavily or breathe too hard in case it might bother Connor.

Connor watches him for a bit, and then he concludes that Evan's too nervous to even look in his direction so the burden falls on him to announce that he's awake, or else Evan will just sit there and stare blankly until visiting hours are over again. So, Connor clears his throat. It's almost comical, the way Evan springs to life from his near-frozen state, to all but jumping up from his seat in shock, and Connor's honestly unsure if he could've done anything to have lessened the reaction because clearing his throat was like the least alarming thing he could have done.

"Connor!" Evan shouts, and then makes the Nobel prize-winning observation, "You're awake!" He's standing now, since he had jumped to his feet when he was startled, and his hands are back to grasping the hem of his shirt, and Connor thinks wistfully back to 10 seconds ago, when Evan Hansen was actually at ease. Connor feels a need to keep up his Local Asshole reputation, so he doesn't say anything, and in his defence, there's nothing of value to say, anyways. So, with the force of anxiety backing him, Evan continues speaking. "I didn't bring you anything this time around because I'm still not sure if you actually like or even want the flowers I got you and well, I mean, I did, uh, bring a vase to put the flowers in so they wouldn't just die, which was dumb of me to not have brought yesterday, and I put the flowers into the vase while you were asleep. I mean, not like I did it while you were asleep on purpose, God, that would be so creepy and why would I do that? You just happened to be asleep and I didn't want to bother you?" There was a pause, and Connor thinks Evan might be done monologuing, but it seems that Evan takes the pause as either disinterest on Connor's part or an encouragement to continue, because Evan continues to ramble. "And I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, like more flowers, I just, I didn't want to go to the florist again because yesterday when I was paying he said 'I hope you like your flowers!' and I said 'You too!' so I don't think I can ever show my face there again so yeah, I, uh, didn't get you more flowers."

Connor's really surprised that Evan manages to breathe at all, with the amount he speaks and how quickly he does it. "In response to one of the many things you said," Connor starts, speaking slowly and deliberately, "I did not, in fact, mind the flowers. So, uh, thanks for them." He can almost see Evan start contemplating whether or not he should have gone back to the Cursed Florist to get more flowers, so he continues to say, "But one bouquet is more than enough. Also, you don't need to actually get me anything, like, ever." He sees Evan relax just a little, and it's good because seeing someone so wound up was really starting to make him a little antsy too. Connor decides that it's reason enough to talk a little more, just so maybe Evan will stop acting like he was on crack. "So, how long have you been creeping around?"

"I wasn't!" Evan protests, and it's immediate, as if the tension from before was still propelling words out of him. The speed that Evan responds is really too quick that he seems suspicious, and a little too defensive, and it also takes Connor off-guard, so to both their surprises, Connor lets out a little huff from his mouth, and it's clearly a small laugh. Connor doesn't think much of it - why would he? - but Evan's amazed because he's never seen Connor smile, much less laugh, and it's nice to know that even Connor Murphy could laugh.

"That doesn't sound suspicious at all, Hansen," Connor says with a deadpan expression, but Evan can hear that he's being teased in the way Connor says it.

"You can't prove anything," Evan states, crossing his arms. Connor shakes his head in disapproval, but it's coupled with amusement and the ghost of a smile, and Evan thinks that it's decent progress from being shouted at.

It's much easier after that. Evan stammers and rambles all over the place, still, but he's not too scared to speak. Meanwhile, Connor finds it in himself to stop acting like a prick long enough to actually hold a conversation. It's a win-win on both sides, because Evan gets to talk about botany when Connor admits he doesn't know what type of flowers Evan had gotten him — "It's baby's breath, it's really not that unknown." "The only plant I know is weed." "I— th-that's not—!" — and Connor gets to complain to Evan about things like how much he hates the Dursleys. The day would've been so much more painfully boring, and Connor isn't that much of a masochist to deny himself human interaction with someone who doesn't hate him as much as or more than his own family does.

Cynthia comes over at some point to pass him his phone, now charged, and excuses herself to allow Connor and his "dearest friend" Evan some time to themselves. It's not too bad, spending time with Evan, because now that he's less tense, they can slip into a silence for long stretches of time without anyone saying anything. Connor appreciates that Evan can be quiet, and that Evan doesn't try to enter his space or touch him, and essentially that Evan respects his boundaries more than his own family ever did. He suspects that Evan's stuck with the short straw in this arrangement, being forced to stay here in Connor Murphy's Hospital Ward, but Evan doesn't make any attempt to leave so Connor doesn't really give a fuck. Before Evan leaves for the day at about dinner time — and he mentions something about how his mother would be home that night, which Connor finds odd because why would Evan's mom not be home for dinner? — they exchange numbers, since Connor now has his phone. Cynthia comes back before visiting hours are over to tell Connor that she's leaving, but she'll be back first thing in the morning to take him home. With most of his energy spent just being around another person, Connor finds himself asleep before midnight


	2. i swear that i'll always paint you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holding full conversations with Connor Murphy is one thing, and it's scary enough. Being alone at home with Connor Murphy sounds like a completely different, and vastly more difficult ball game. Evan gives it a shot, anyways. It's not like he has much of a choice.

It's the next day and Evan's pacing in his room because he has a phone number, and common courtesy says he should text and check in but then again, should he really? Because what if now was too early and Connor was still reeling from having spent hours with Evan – and most of the time spent was in silence, and that just went on forever, which was awful and probably all his fault – and texting him now would just annoy Connor? But what if he didn't text and Connor was expecting or waiting on a text, although that seemed like Evan thought too highly of himself because why would Connor be waiting on him to text first? Connor was a plenty confident guy, he'd text first if he wanted to. But what if he wasn't as confident as he seemed and wanted Evan to reach out to him? It seemed unlikely, sure, but it was a possibility, which meant that Evan certainly could not ignore it. Eventually, Evan got over himself just enough to send a quick text – 'Hey, it's Evan, are you home yet?' – and then mentally berated himself on saying that "it's Evan" because Connor had already saved his number, of course he knew it was Evan! So, Evan sat and stewed in his own despair for a full 6 minutes before he finally got a response.

'packing now ttyl? n tnx for texting'

And that was enough to put Evan at ease. Connor hadn't just ignored him, which would, in itself, bring Evan into this spiralling never-ending drop into self-doubt and despair about how Connor was probably laughing at him, or that he'd done something horribly wrong to offend the other boy and honestly, they were both awful possibilities and, yeah, Evan's just really glad Connor didn't take too long to respond. With his anxiety over the situation dissipating, Evan went about his day.

It's about an hour later when Evan gets another text from Connor.

* * *

It's kinda good to be home, Connor decides, because as shitty as it was, his home at least granted him more freedom than the fucking hospital. But then he notices something different, and holy fuck does it piss him off. He really wants to slam a door shut in an act of teenage defiance. Instead, he contemplates texting Evan. They aren't friends, Connor thinks, and he's not entirely sure if Evan even wants to be around him, or if he's just bothering to stick around because it's better than explaining his creepy letter to Connor's parents. The latter is pretty likely, because Connor knows he's not exactly a pleasure to be around, but he's not sure if that means he's not allowed to complain to Evan about how pissed he is right now. He's pretty sure that Evan found the time they spent together in the ward pretty much torturous, because wherever Connor is concerned, nobody really has a very fun time.

In the end, Connor decides he doesn't really care, since, if Evan didn't want to talk to him, he didn't have to respond, and so Connor shoots him a text.

'im home but. wtf.'  
'my room nwo has no door and the bathroom has no lock'  
'i mfucking pissed'

Connor throws his phone onto his bed, not bothering to wait for a response. He figures he'll see it eventually, and he would rather just mope in solitude at the fact that he's been stripped of all privacy inside his own home. It's really fucking uncomfortable not having a door, and he feels ridiculously exposed. He has to admit, though, that the hours spent in the hospital have really worn him down, despite having spent most of them asleep. It's pretty much subdued him, but not as much as it could have. He's still pissed, and the more he thinks about it, the angrier he gets because, sure they had reason to, but it was exactly this kind of bullshit that his parents (and specifically, his fucking dad) always pulled that just drove him fucking crazy. And fuck, was he absolutely fucking mad. It's not like they'd done a single fucking thing to have prevented him from trying to kill himself. Now, they were going to act like they cared by taking down his fucking door instead of getting him help?

The anger has seeped into his bones and suddenly the only thing he can really think about is how much he fucking hates his parents and this family and somehow destroying his arms and trying to die weren't signs enough that he needed help because he's just a fucking psycho with an attitude problem and his dad somehow still thinks bootcamp is the answer and that just pisses him off so fucking much. And suddenly, Connor's not even sure if he's breathing or not, he just knows he's moving and his hands are moving and things are being thrown, his desk is overturned and his bookshelf is lying flat now, and his hands ache because he thinks he might have punched a wall and he can't hear himself think of the sound of his own shouts. He does, however, hear another door slam shut, and he knows it's Zoe and that she's locked her door because she's terrified of her own fucking brother and why wouldn't she be? He can't take this anymore, he doesn't want to sit here with an open door like some sort of exhibition, like "oh, step right up and watch the freak in his natural habitat!" and he hates that people can see him, he hates that they're watching him even in his own home and he can't fucking stand it so he just leaves. His mind is still racing, and he doesn't have the keys to his car – maybe his dad confiscated them, because fuck him – and so he settles on speed-walking in a random direction. The speed-walk turns into a run and eventually, Connor breaks into a sprint, and he's sprinting further and further away from that stupid fucking house and he just runs and runs and runs until he's so tired and his arms burn from the friction of so much movement, and they haven't stopped itching since yesterday, and he's out of breath but he keeps running until his chest burns and his throat is dry and his legs ache and every inch of him screams to stop before he finally, finally stops.

His body is still weak, presumably from just having recovered from severe blood loss, but since Connor is an idiot, he's exerting himself anyways, and now he's got to deal with the fact that he's bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Dark edges start to enter his vision and woah, he can't see anything, and he lets himself fall to his knees as he pants to catch his breath and his hands dig into the rocky ground. The rocks under his palm bite into his skin, and it helps him ground himself but it's hardly enough because Connor passes out anyways, and his body falls limply on its side.  


* * *

When Connor comes to, he's aching all over. More specifically, his hands are bruised and he's not even sure why. The rest of his body just aches from having slept on the ground in the middle of some dirt road in an uncomfortable position. Sitting up, he realises there's something in his pocket, which is strange because he doesn't remember pocketing anything, but then again, he doesn't remember anything that he's done. His head and mouth feel weird, and he'd pretty much kill for a smoke right now but instead of a pack of cigarettes, he finds his phone in his pocket. There are 3 messages from Evan. Aside from that, not even his family seem to care where he is.

'Oh, that's really bad... I'm sorry to hear.'  
'Are you okay?'  
'Connor?'

'hansen, are you there?'

It's not long before Evan replies.

'Yes, how are you?'

'i feel like shit. uh i passed out in the middle of a dirt road and i think that was a few hours ago?'

'Are you okay???'

'can u just...uh whats ur address'

Connor's not sure what he's doing but he's tired and he's pretty sure that Evan's house is closer to where he currently is than his own home, and he doesn't really want to go home anyways, so he reads the address that Evan sends and drags himself in the right direction.

He shuffles his way slowly to Evan's house, taking about 20 minutes moving at that torturously slow pace, but he's exhausted emotionally and physically and there isn't any reason to move faster, anyways. The house isn't going to magically move further away with every second, so Connor decides that he can take his time. Upon finally reaching the front door, being sure to double-check to see that he has the right place, Connor knocks on the door, loudly and in rapid succession. Somehow, it only just hits him that there's a chance that Evan wouldn't want him there, and he briefly considers leaving. There's shuffling inside, and he has to wait a few moments before the door finally opens, and he's faced with Evan, looking as anxious as ever as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

Evan knew that Connor had passed out god-knows-where after what sounded like a rough time with his family, but somehow, he hadn't expected Connor to look quite as dishevelled as he did. Connor still looked weak, like he had in the hospital, except mildly better. His eyes had dark circles and a sunken look to them, and his hair was a frazzled, greasy mess – Evan wonders how long it'd been since Connor had last washed his hair – and was peppered with small, yellow leaves. Connor cleared his throat, running a bruised hand through his hair, in the process shaking off exactly one leaf, before saying "Do you have some water?"

Evan's a little relieved, and he won't admit that it was because he had been worried that Connor would ask to hide out in his house and that had scared Evan because, sure, he's been alone with Connor before, twice in fact, but that didn't make the prospect of just hanging out with Connor in his own home any less terrifying and doomed to failure. But since Connor had just asked for water, it seemed like he wouldn't be staying too long, or at least Evan hoped that was the case. He nodded quickly, and stepped aside, inviting Connor inside.

"You can, uh, sit down? If you'd like? I-I'll just get you your water," Evan says, gesturing to the couch. He's relieved a second time that Connor does head for the couch, muttering a 'thanks', because he didn't want Connor to just stare at him in silence as he awkwardly poured water into a glass. Evan is, admittedly, bad at handling silence. He goes to the sink, grabs a glass and fills it up with water from the tap. When he leaves the kitchen, he finds that Connor is significantly more relaxed, having had his shoulders tensed and hands curled into fists when Evan had seen him at the door. Instead, Connor has his head leaned back against the couch, his eyes closed as he faces the ceiling, and his arms are lax at his side while his legs stretch out in front of him. Evan notes that Connor looks nice while he's at peace. His hair frames his face in a way that looks pleasant, and he can't help but to think that Connor looks so serene with his face so relaxed. Evan almost doesn't want to disturb his peace, but he figures that Connor would want the glass of water, so he clears his throat to bring attention to himself. Immediately, Connor's eyes open and he's sitting upright now, as if he's suddenly on full-alert.

"H-hey, I got you your water?" Evan offers, nervously as always. He watches as recognition falls over Connor and he reaches for the glass before leaning back into the couch. It's…nice, Evan decides, to know that Connor can relax in his presence. Evan stands, awkward in his own home somehow, as he watches Connor take an experimental sip of the water, before downing it in three gulps. Finishing the drink, he looks over at Evan.

"You can sit down, you know? It's your house."

"I-I know! I know." Evan looks around, trying to decide between sitting next to Connor on the couch or on the floor, and even considers dragging a chair over from the kitchen, although that would be a little odd and would seem like Evan was avoiding sitting down next to Connor which would be rude. So, he settles on sitting next to Connor, but his back is ramrod straight and he doesn't even know if he should be relaxing into his own couch which is pretty embarrassing as it is.

"You seem pretty uncomfortable, so uh, thanks for the drink. I'll get out of your hair," Connor says, handing the cup back to Evan before standing up. Evan's not sure if he's imagining it or not, but there's a hint of dejection and reluctance in how Connor speaks and walks over to the door. He's pretty sure he's imagining the extra weight in Connor's steps and the slump in his shoulders, and Evan feels guilty for making him feel unwanted.

"You don't— you can— are you going home?" Evan asks, too nervous to actually extend an invitation for Connor to stay.

"Nah, I'm just going to hit the streets. I'll go home later. Or tomorrow," he responds, and there's a trace of bitterness on his face as he considers the fact that he'll have to go back home eventually.

"That's not— you— you should go home."

Connor shoots him a glance, one that clearly says that Evan has no clue what he's talking about, and responds with a nonchalant 'sure', even though they both know that Connor isn't headed home.

"Then stay here," Evan tries, because he feels desperate not to let Connor be alone, right after what he's tried just days ago. Evan knows he'd regret it if he let Connor go right now, to spend a night alone out on the streets, and really, it's the night that really pushes you over the edge, and he knows because he's been there too. The desperation really outweighs whatever anxiety he had about being alone at home with Connor. In response, Connor raises an eyebrow, because only an idiot couldn't see Evan's discomfort.

"I-if you really won't go home, then you should stay," Evan says, voice hardening in hopes that he can fake some confidence, and it seems to work because Connor's stare softens, and his gaze falls to the floor.

"Okay… thanks, Evan." 

Connor follows behind Evan, who sits back down onto the couch, and so he follows suit. It's a little uncomfortable, which Connor has no issue with, but Evan's starting to get antsy and he speaks up.

"My mom uh left money for dinner, she won't be home tonight? Uhm, do you wanna, maybe, um order in something? Like pizza?"

"Sure," Connor says, and he drags it out, because Evan's staring at him as if there's something else he wants to say.

"I'm really bad at phone calls. And talking to strangers. Like really, really bad. It's actually, uhm, part of the whole social anxiety thing?" he eventually blurts out, and Connor realises what Evan's getting at.

"Ah. I'll call, then," he offers, because really, Evan's already letting him stay there. The least he can do is to help make a phone call. The social anxiety bit is news to Connor, because he knew Evan is antsy and nervous and jumpy, but he'd never known that Evan had social anxiety. "So what happens if your mom's not home and you need to get dinner?"

"I just, uhm— I don't eat?" Evan says, and he sounds like he's been caught with his hand inside of a cookie jar.

"Dude, that is not healthy," Connor responds, like a hypocrite, because he's skipped his fair share of meals, but that's beside the point. "Where is your mom, anyways?"

"Working, she uhm, she's a nurse, and she's got the night shift today. Mostly she's, um, either at work or at school? She takes these night classes to be a paralegal some day."

"And your dad?"

"In Colorado," Evan replies, a little quickly. "With his new wife and kids, they uh, they don't help me order dinner either, so, yeah."

Connor huffs out what sounds like a laugh at the sentence. He takes the lull in conversation to pull up his phone and open the site to the menu of some pizza delivery service. Leaning towards Evan, he tilts the screen so that Evan can view the choices for himself. They briefly discuss the pizza of choice, before Connor calls to place the order.

"They'll be here in like half an hour."

"Okay."

"Do you wanna watch any movies? I have a Netflix account."

"O-oh! Sure, uhm, anything's fine? What– uhm, do you– do you have anything you want to watch?"

"Not really, but we can look through and settle on something?"

"Okay! Let me, uhm let me get my laptop."

Connor watches Evan disappear into his room to fumble around for his laptop. There's a bit of noise as Evan moves things around to get his laptop, but he returns to the living room fairly quickly, declaring "Got it!" as he does so.

Connor logs into Netflix on Evan's laptop and they scroll through the list of movies that are available. A lot of the recommendations are science fiction movies, which somehow, Evan didn't quite expect. He knows it's just stereotyping, but he figured Connor would have spent all his time watching thrillers and horror flicks or something.

"I didn't think you were the sort to be into sci-fi movies."

Connor raised an eyebrow in response. "What, were you expecting that I only watch slasher films and bad Friday the 13th movies?"

"Uhm, sort of?"

Evan winces a little, worried that Connor would be offended. Instead, Connor lets out a laugh, and Evan finds himself smiling too, his nerves dissipating quickly.

"How about a feel-good movie?" Evan suggests, after a short while of searching.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I don't, uhm, how about- have you seen Inside Out?"

Connor has definitely loosened up around Evan, because he laughs again – Evan thinks he can get used to seeing a smile on Connor's face – and says, "Isn't that a kid's show?"

"N-no! It, uhm, it's really good and i-it, I– it's really good, I like it a lot," Evan says, and he's a little embarrassed and so, he's turning a little red because Connor called his suggestion a kid's show, even if, technically, he's not wrong.

Connor continues to smile, and the amusement is evident in the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, and Evan admits that it makes him feel like his embarrassment was worth it. "The kid's movie it is, then," Connor says, selecting the movie on Evan's laptop. 

The pizza arrives while they're still only fifteen minutes into the movie, and they eat a few slices with the laptop placed at the coffee table in front of the couch. They eat in silence, and Evan is secretly casting glances at Connor, trying to see his reaction. Connor, on the other hand, keeps his eyes glues to the laptop screen, completely immersed in the story. He even wolfs down his few slices of pizza, so that he can balance the laptop on his knee and have a better look at the screen. Evan is done soon after, and he shifts closer to Connor to get a better view of the screen as well. Nobody points out that they're now pretty much leaning into each other, or that Evan can smell traces of weed and cigarette smoke on Connor's jacket, and in return, Connor can feel the warmth of Evan's presence. It's comfortable, and neither of them want to say anything, just to stay that way for longer.

* * *

The movie is reaching its end, and Evan gets the last laugh because, through his own tears, he can see that the waterworks are starting for Connor, too, when the young protagonist's parents embrace her. So much for a kid's show, Evan muses. He pretends not to see the way Connor tries to discreetly wipe away his tears, opting to leave the teasing for when the movie ends.

It's soon after when the credits start to roll, and Connor pauses it and sets it inside. Neither of them have moved away, and Evan's thankful because he really, really likes how it feels to be pressed against Connor's soft jacket. 

"So…" Evan says, grinning and obviously waiting for Connor to voice his opinions.

"I can't believe a fucking kid's show made me cry," Connor says, and he's faking a pout which makes Evan break into a laugh.

"I told you it was good!"

"Yeah, yeah," Connor relents while smiling gently, and then he turns to face Evan. Evan, who is sitting too close. Evan, whose face is turned towards him. Evan, whose breath Connor can almost feel.

Evan is grinning, or he was, but the grin slowly fades as they share a moment, in which neither can tell if it lasted longer or shorter than either of them imagined. A moment, in which both their gazes are locked, and their faces are too close, and Evan barely notices the way Connor's hair falls to frame his face so perfectly because the only thing that he's focused on is Connor's face.

Evan looks away first, because he's way too aware of moments like these, where his heart starts hammering in his chest and he can hardly breathe and his thoughts are racing with empty thoughts. He fiddles with his cast, and the other hand is digging a nail into his shirt, and Connor turns away as well, clearing his throat. The room is a little warm after this, but they try their best to not let it be awkward. Connor knows that he shouldn't be relying on Evan to bring the mood back to something comfortable, so he makes small talk, about how he hadn't expected to grieve the death of an imaginary friend, or how much he liked the comedy in some scenes. It works, he notices, because Evan's able to speak again. He still stammers, and he looks a little more nervous than he had when the movie ended, but it's good enough, Connor decides.

They put on another movie, this time one Connor decides on, and it's Wall-E, because he's figured that Evan likes his animated films, and this is a relaxing science fiction movie, to some degree. They've both seen it, and it's mostly meant as a movie to wind down to. It's comfortable, and with the laptop balanced on Connor's knee for a second time, they're huddled together again to share the small screen. It's a rather slow-paced movie, and Connor's zoning out as he keeps his gaze on the screen. It isn't long before Evan – who had been valiantly trying to stay awake despite yawning constantly – falls asleep, and his head falls gently onto Connor's shoulder. The gentle bump makes Connor pull his eyes away from the screen, and his gaze softens as it rests on Evan's sleeping form. He should wake Evan. Connor knows this, but his bones feel heavy, and he's kind of interested in watching the movie, and he doesn't want to admit it just yet, but he likes that Evan's head is on his shoulder, and the closeness brings a comfort that's new to Connor. So, he lets the movie continue to play. Eventually, the guilt of having Evan unconsciously so close to him makes Connor stop the movie. He gently shakes Evan, who raises his head in a daze.

"Evan, buddy, you should go to bed."

"Huh? Oh, I'm…sorry I fell asleep…" Evan says, voice quiet as he squints at Connor.

"It's okay. C'mon, let's get you to bed." Connor's voice is equally quiet, and he shuts the laptop, gently putting it aside, before deciding to walk Evan to his room. It's dark, and Connor won't turn on the light and wake Evan up any more than he has to, but he can still make out slight details of the room. There's a desk, with books scattered over it, likely to be school work. A shelf lined with books stands backed against the walls. Connor watches as Evan climbs into bed, and in his head, Connor's trying to figure out how to leave the house (he figures that he'll leave, then slide the key back under the door). Turning to leave, he hears Evan shift.

"Connor?"

"Yeah, Evan?"

"Are you going…are you going home?"

"…Maybe."

"You should stay."

Connor's not sure what Evan means by that. He's certain that the invitation isn't for Evan's bed, but he's not entirely sure that he's welcome to the couch, either. Despite that, he says "okay", and sits down on the floor, with his back against Evan's bed.

He's also unsure if Evan is fully awake, or talking in his sleep, but he knows he's heard correctly when Evan speaks again, muffled slightly by the pillow that his face is pressed into.

"Connor, I'm really…really glad you're alive."

Connor doesn't say anything in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer, and this is all still good and soft, relative to what I've got planned for the future. Enjoy it (I guess?) while it lasts!


	3. get me out of my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor learns a few things today. Firstly, it's that Heidi Hansen seems like a wonderful person. Secondly, he's learnt that if he pretends a crush isn't a crush hard enough, he can almost believe himself. Lastly, it's that there seems to be an inverse relation between the size of a house, and Connor's own tolerance for its residents. His house has looked less and less like a home for years.

The next morning, Connor wakes first, because it's hard to stay asleep when his bones are aching from the lack of a proper bed. He gave up sleeping while sitting upright hours ago, but the floor isn't all that comfortable either. He spends a good amount of time staring at Evan. His breathing is even and slow, and it strikes Connor, in the dim light of daybreak, that he likes watching Evan. It's a bit of a creepy realisation, one that Connor immediately smacks himself mentally for, but it isn't any less true. He's also painfully aware that he likes spending time with Evan. He likes how loud noise of all his problems turn into a quiet, low hum at the back of his mind when he's with Evan, and while it's still there, it's significantly more tolerable. Connor is also painfully aware that he wants to spend more time with Evan. He's not sure what this means just yet, except that he enjoys Evan's presence and, selfishly, he'd like to enjoy more of it. There's a burning desire to know if Evan feels the same peace that Connor does when they're together, but he decides to shove this one as far down into his vault of repressed feeling as he can. Eventually, he decides he needs to take a piss pretty badly, so he stands up, careful not to wake Evan, and stretches in the process. It's nice to hear the satisfying 'crack' of his weary bones, and he proceeds to leave the room.

Except, the light in the kitchen is switched on, Connor finds, and he distinctively recalls having turned off all the lights in the middle of the night. Which meant that someone was home. He tries to get to the bathroom undetected, but then another bedroom door opens, just as Connor is passing by it, and he feels like a deer caught in headlights.

There's this uncomfortable pause as they're both caught off-guard, but the shock in Heidi's face is replaced by a genuine smile that somehow manages to be sincere despite her obvious fatigue. "You must be Evan's friend! He told me that he had a friend over but I didn't realise that you stayed the night." she says. "I'm Heidi, Evan's mom."

"Ah, I'm Connor. Murphy." Connor's not sure what to do because he hasn't met a friend's parent in what seems like forever, but he manages to extend a hand, and offers a polite "I'm sorry if I shocked you," because if it was him who had found a stranger in his house at dawn, he would probably have freaked out. It's in the moment that Heidi grasps his hand that he starts to worry about how he looks. His chipped black nail varnish is obvious against his purplish, bruised but otherwise pale hand, and he knows the black of his jacket looks more like a faded grey. His hair is likely a mess from having just woken up, ignoring the fact that it was almost always a mess, and he probably looked as tired as he felt. He felt self-conscious. Heidi could see all of him, and that worried him because for once in his life, he wanted to make a decent impression on someone. But somehow, she seemed unfazed by it all. Somehow, she just manages to smile brightly at him, as if she couldn't see all of the flaws that were so blatantly obvious in Connor's mind.

"Oh, it's fine! It's Evan's fault for not having told me anyways, but I figured you might be here when I saw a pair of shoes I didn't recognise at the door."

Connor doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just nods, visibly uncomfortable. There's a short pause, but it's enough to feel awkward to Connor, so he speaks up. "I, uhm, was headed for the bathroom."

"Oh, of course, go ahead. It's right there," Heidi says, pointing to the door at the end of the hallway. Connor thanks her quickly, and hides away in the bathroom. He doesn't notice the genuine joy on Heidi's face as she watches him.

When he exits the bathroom, Heidi calls him down into the kitchen. "I'm making breakfast for the two of you," she announces cheerfully.

"You didn't have to, Ms Hansen," Connor says, almost surprised by his own politeness.

"Oh, just enjoy it. And just call me Heidi, Connor. I made coffee, by the way. I'm not sure if you drink, so if you don't I could make you tea?" Her voice is kind but strong, and Connor likes how she speaks.

"I drink coffee, thank you. Can I pour you a cup, Ms- uhm, Heidi?" He winces at that, because way to be awkward, Connor. But she doesn't mind at all, she doesn't even bring attention to his verbal slip-up, seemingly too busy making what seems like an omelette.

"No, I'm headed to bed after I'm done here. But you can feel free to make yourself at home, alright?"

The two continue like that, Connor sipping at coffee while Heidi cooks – he tried to offer help but she had hastily declined – and making small talk.

"You signed Evan's cast," Heidi states, and somehow the statement sounds like a question.

"Yeah, he, uhm, he asked me to," Connor answers, and it's a blatant lie, but he's not sure if Evan would like it if he told Heidi that nobody else had signed his cast. Connor realises, as he sips his coffee, that he's bad at small talk. He's not just bad, he's laughably awful at it, because the last time he's had to make small talk was a whole lifetime ago, and even now, with Evan, he merely sinks back into a silence when he has nothing more to say. The whole environment just makes him feel even more awkward and out-of-place. The scene is serene, he knows this. It's early morning, and the smell of coffee and eggs fill his senses. A mother figure stands over the stove with a pan of eggs, and she's smiling while he drinks coffee and keeps him company. It's so ordinary, that Connor finds it difficult to believe any of it is real. The domestic comfort he finds in this very moment feels so much like a dream, and one that Connor never knew he even longed for. It's both a warm experience, and a rude awakening to how new he finds this quiet, familial setting. Connor snaps himself back into the present, realising that some time has passed and nothing has been said between them. He figures he might as well try, so he twists in his seat at the kitchen table to face her. "So, uh, how was work today?" he asks, hoping that he sounded interested.

"Well, it was okay," she starts, somehow chirpy despite how tired she must have been, "it's pretty much the same as always. There was this eighty-year-old woman who was threatening to hit us or bribe us with money if we didn't let her go, and for a fragile old lady with a heart pacer, she sure put up a fight!" Heidi throws a smile over her shoulder while she told the story, and finishes it with a laugh that Connor found pretty and soft, and it was genuine enough that he couldn’t help but to laugh too.

Heidi asks Connor about school, and he tries not to give the one-word answers he always does. He's not sure why, but there's something about Hansens that just lets him relax around them. She's done with the omelettes soon enough, and then she excuses herself to get some rest, telling Connor to feel free to make himself comfortable. Connor smiles, thanking her, and watches her leave the kitchen. He takes the omelette that she's prepared for him and when he's done with that, he does his dishes and even cleans up after Heidi. He figures he should at least be useful while he's imposing on the Hansens.

Speaking of which, Connor had realised that he had abandoned his phone on the floor of Evan's bedroom unknowingly, and reluctant as he may be, he really needs to check to see if his parents have disowned him yet. So, he heads back upstairs, and opens the door to Evan's room, careful to be quiet. When he opens the door, he sees his phone on the floor, immediately, but then his eyes rest on Evan, who remains soundly asleep in bed, and he can't seem to turn away. Evan's shirt had hiked up in his sleep, revealing a fair amount of his back and his side, and of course, Connor just can't seem to turn away. It wasn't like he wanted to be That Guy, who watches his friends when they're asleep, like a fucking creep, but here he is, being a fucking creep. Not to mention the other creepy things Connor has done, like letting Evan stay asleep on his shoulder, or watching him upon waking up this morning. What the fuck was wrong with him, anyways?

Well, lots of things, Connor admits, but he's specifically trying to figure out why the fuck he's so fixated on Evan fucking Hansen. And of course, the possibility has crossed his mind, and as much as he refuses to acknowledge it, he can't lie to himself well enough to completely ignore that he might just have a crush on Evan. Which is exceedingly stupid, he thinks, because they've been talking like, what? Three days? What fucking freak gets a crush in three days? It's not like Evan's the only person who's shown him an ounce of kindness and looked past his intimidating appearance and demeanour, somehow managing to spend time with him and make him feel like he's worth something. Except he is, and it's exceedingly likely that he's developed feelings for Evan and it's frustrating as all hell, because there's no way Evan would reciprocate – the kid was straight as far as he's aware, anyways – and it doesn't even matter because Connor would rather die than have Evan catch on. Which means, like every other emotion Connor has ever felt, this one was going to get dry swallowed and shoved into a corner with all the other feelings he doesn't want to acknowledge. So, with the crisis averted for now, Connor turns sharply around with his phone in his hand and leaves the room with a new-found defiance. It's a good thing, too, because it seems he'd need that defiance, seeing as how his phone has 12 missed calls, 9 of which were from Cynthia, and the rest from Zoe, and a whole string of messages from every one of his family members. Upon quickly glancing through them, Connor gathers that the messages from Zoe were all along the lines of "stop being a dick and come home instead of tearing this family apart", those from Cynthia were to "please stay safe and come home", and the ones from Larry had been a long multi-part message with an in-depth analysis of how every single one of his actions had been disrespectful and how he had been ungrateful, which Connor guessed was more to do with the suicide than anything else. Nice to know they cared.

It's this moment when everything really starts to weigh down on him. It's as if all of last night, his problems had been suspended in mid-air, lifted from his shoulders for just long enough for him to relax. But now, on the couch in a house where he is a stranger, with the other occupants soundly asleep, and a phone filled with reminders of what he'd left in his wake, Connor finds it hard to keep himself together. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's still reeling from the attempt. So much of him is yearning to try again, and do it right this time around. The rest of him wants to run away and never come back. To just leave this all behind. It almost scares him how badly he wants to take his own life, still. How he remains as ready as he had been when he had tried. The entire experience is now so present in his mind, like a grating sound inside his brain that won't stop. It's annoying, and loud, and it makes him clench his teeth and grip at his hair because it just won't shut up. This doesn't even include everything that he'd done back home, which he still doesn't know in detail. But he remembers that he's been stripped of his privacy in his own home, and that makes his skin crawl, and adds a ringing sound to the grating noise that's already driving him mad, and Connor doesn't even notice when he bites his lip so hard it starts to bleed. He can't...he can't do this here, he thinks, and it's his only sober thought, between repeatedly screaming "shut up" inside his head, with the mantra of "I should have died" as a bass line. He's on edge and about to implode and he'd rather die twice than have it happen in the only house that has truly accepted him. So he forces himself up and he grabs the bunch of keys left sitting on a counter. He's already shaking, and trying to find the right key is near impossible. He misses the lock entirely on some tries and just drops the keys on others. He…he really needs air. He needs someone to tell him he's okay and he needs to be alone, and he needs to get out of here, even though he's not sure if here means this house, or this neighbourhood, or this whole damn world. The grating and the ringing get louder and his arms itch more than they ever have, and he needs something to blur out all this noise. He's just got the right key into the lock – and thank god, the key turns and he'll be out of here soon – when he feels something touch his shoulder, and he recoils violently, like a spring that’s wound up to a near-breaking point. He twists around, and everything freezes for a moment, because Evan's standing there with a concerned look and a question on his face. 

"Connor?" Evan's voice is soft, and wracked with worry, and it's everything that Connor wants to hear and yet it isn't.

"I need to go," he forces out, but he can tell that his voice is urgent and panicked and like he's spat the words out. The worry on Evan's face only deepens, but what right does Evan even have to be worried? They've known each other three fucking days. That doesn't warrant concern, and Connor stubbornly believes that Evan has no place to be worried for him.

"Just, just…hold on a moment, okay?" Evan says, and Connor's too wrapped up in his own fears to notice how Evan's starting to grow antsy as well. "I…I need you to breath, o-okay, Connor?" he says, anyways, ignoring the panic that was threatening to take over. "I know it sounds dumb and even I know it isn't always helpful and it just seems really annoying when people do this but it's good to focus on something else so, so just… breathe with me, okay?" He's self-conscious and worried that he's going to mess this up horribly but he has to try and if this is the only thing he can think to try, then it'll have to do. So, Evan leads Connor through a breathing practice – 7 counts in, 7 counts out, repeat. He sees Connor trying to follow along, failing, but continuing to try anyways, despite the way it breaks in an uneven staccato. It takes a few tries, but Evan has faith that Connor's breathing will even out eventually, so he keeps counting. And eventually, Connor manages to follow through, in…and out. And eventually, his hands stop visibly shaking. 

It's progress, Evan notes, so he decides to go closer to Connor, his hands up in front of him to show that he isn't a threat. Connor doesn't retaliate, in fact, he doesn't even respond. So Evan inches closer. When he's close enough, he grabs Connor's hand lightly, and pry the keys from his loosely-clenched fist. He puts the keys onto the nearest counter-top, which is barely out of reach so he only needs to stretch his hand out a little, before returning his attention to Connor. Connor, whose hand is still hanging in mid-air from how Evan had taken the keys from him. Whose eyes are glazed over and downcast, staring blankly at a spot next to where Evan is standing. Whose shoulders are hunched up in apprehension, as if the world was just waiting to hurt him. Connor, who reminds Evan of himself in so many ways, so he steps closer, hands still raised in front of him, until Connor is standing right in front of him, yet somehow still looking away. And so, Evan wraps his arms around Connor, pulls him close and holds him there. And Connor lets him. Connor lets Evan gather him into his arms and press them together, and he sinks into the comforting, protective touch. And suddenly, everything is too much, and Connor is shuddering into Evan, his face is pressed into Evan's shoulder, and his hands grip onto Evan's back. It's as if he's found something stable in this terrifying, bloody mess he calls his life, and he doesn't want to let go of it. He doesn't want to let go of him. Evan doesn't pull away, doesn't try to push Connor away. He doesn't show any signs of regret or disgust that Connor had expected, and Evan stays, rides out the way Connor is shaking and trembling and coming undone all at once in his arms, but Evan doesn't let go because Connor has yet to. Evan doesn't even care to know what it is that compels him to care so much for Connor, and so he holds the back of Connor's head, stroking his hair with one hand, and rubs circles on his back with the other. 

Neither of them can tell how long they stand there. By the time Connor has stopped shaking, the Evan's shoulder is damn under his shirt, and they both feel a distinct lack of warmth once Connor loosens his grip, and Evan takes it as a sign to step away. Needless to say, it's awkward after that. Connor's gotten most of his mind back in the right place, and with the moment over, they're both painfully aware of the vulnerable moment that they had shared, yet neither had even the slightest bit of experience in how to recover from here. The discomfort is palpable, and worsened by the fact that the otherwise-still atmosphere made any movement immensely obvious, which was the case for the way Connor stood, rubbing at his bandaged arm, hidden under his jacket, while Evan was picking at his cast with his other hand. Connor manages to find the courage to raise he gaze from the floor first, and he's almost shy when he manages out a croaky "thank you". 

Evan is definitely shy with his "y-you're, uhm, it's no big deal, thanks," but he looks up too, and they lock eyes with each other. Connor's eyes are red from crying, and it worsens the bags under his eyes that he'd gotten from having slept so uncomfortably. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is a little red, and he looks so fatigued, with sunken eyes that are trying hard to stay focused, it makes Evan's heart sink a little. Underneath the fatigue, there's the last traces of vulnerability and fear that Evan had seen in Connor, but it's slowly being replaced by a learnt hardness that Evan wishes Connor didn't have.

Then the moment is over for good, because suddenly, Connor is clearing his throat into his fist. "Your mom made omelettes," he says, looking pointedly to the side.

It makes Evan burst into a small laugh, because the attempt at normalcy had been so unexpected, yet is somehow still so, very Connor, that it isn't unwelcome. "Really?" he asks, and he lets a small smile show on his face. "Must be because we have this really important guest over."

Connor gives a strained smile, one that tries to be genuine, but fails only because of his exhaustion. "Nah, I hear he's really no big deal."

* * *

When Evan finishes his breakfast, Connor stands up from the table as well and mumbles something about how he should be headed home. Evan's surprised to hear this, because he knows that Connor has been avoiding going home, and had been doing so since yesterday. But they both know that Connor can't avoid his family forever, and he needs to go home eventually. So, he walks Connor to the door, and opens it for him as well.

"So, uh, see you," Connor says, and Evan sees the reluctance in how Connor's hands are deep in his pockets, and he kicks idly at pebbles with his boot. Evan pretends to not feel just as reluctant to have Connor go.

"W-will you… uhm, will you get home okay?" Evan asks, from where he stands by the door.

"I… yeah, I'll be fine." He says it like he's trying to convince himself. Evan doesn't believe it, and he's not sure if Connor really does, either. But Connor's already giving a casual wave as he turns away and walks onto the street, and Evan's still worried about Connor having to go back on his own.

"Connor, I–" Evan starts, and he curses his anxiety for making him stammer but forces the rest of the words out anyways, "I can walk you home! Uhm, I mean, if you want? You don't– you don't have to, I mean, I don't have to if you don't want me to." Evan tries to stop himself from wincing at how awkward he sounds, even to himself.

Connor turns around, now standing a few steps from Evan's door, and he looks unsure. It takes him a few seconds, but eventually, he meets Evan's eyes and he says "Okay."

At first, they walk in silence, but curiosity and nerves get the better of Evan eventually. "So, uhm, what are- uh, what are your parents like?"

A glance at Connor's face tells Evan that he's smiling, but it's not in the way that Evan had grown accustom to over the last few days. This smile is humourless and pained, and he braces himself to hear just how Connor's parents treat him.

"They're…" Connor starts, obviously struggling to find the words to say. "My mom tries, at least." He pauses, rolling descriptors around inside his head for his father. "My dad hates me."

"I'm sure he– I mean, a-are you sure?"

"Yeah, he's uh…" Connor runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out his next few words. "I'm pretty sure he's hated me since he found out that I was gay?" It makes Connor feel a little sick to say that out loud, because he's never done so and saying it makes it feel so much more real, even though those words have been his reality for years, now.

"Oh… oh, shit."

"You don't have a problem with that, right?" Connor asks, and there's a bit of an edge to his question, despite his fatigue, like he's had enough, and he's about to snap.

"N-no! No, of course not. I– uh I'm bi?" Evan blurts out. "I just. I didn't think your dad– um. I just– I'm sorry," Evan manages to say, because he really is. He doesn't know what else to say, but he can't imagine how he'd feel if Heidi hated him for something he couldn't change. He imagined it would hurt just as much for Connor.

"Can we talk about this another time? It doesn't really make having to go home any easier."

"Y-yeah, of course! Sorry."

"It's fine, don't apologise."

"O-okay, sorry."

Connor just shoots Evan a weary glance this time, and Evan gets the message because he doesn't apologise again, despite how badly he obviously wants to. They walk in silence again, with only the sound of gravel crunching beneath their shoes to accompany them. Evan ponders how it must feel, being hated by someone who should love you, someone who lived in the same household as you, someone who had authority over you. He wondered how young Connor had been when his father had found out, and how long Connor had to live with the fact that his own father hated him, how long he had to tolerate the ways in which his father had made his hatred clear to him. He wonders how much of Connor's attempted suicide was driven by a self-hatred that had been drilled into him by his father over something so integral to his person. And then, Evan wonders if he's better off not knowing, because having all those answers might make Connor's pain so much clearer, and Evan wonders how that might make himself feel.

They reach Connor's house and, woah, it's big. Evan knows he doesn't have that big of a house, but it's comfortable, while Connor's is pretty much massive, to the point of being a little intimidating. Connor stops walking and Evan sees him shifting his weight from one foot to another as he clenches and unclenches his hand. It's not hard to tell that he's nervous and reluctant, and Evan wonders how many times something like this has happened, and Connor has to force himself back into his own home to face the inevitable music. Evan wonders if it's even worse having to do that alone. Eventually, Connor turns to face Evan, one hand running roughly through his hair as he does so.

"Um, Connor?" Evan says, and his voice is quiet. Connor hums a 'hm?' in response. "You, uh, you'll be fine, o-okay?" Evan forces himself to look Connor straight in the eyes to feign confidence, and he tries his best to sound comforting, but he's not sure if he manages it with how meek his voice sounds. Connor's entire expression softens into something akin to a smile at this, and Evan has to fight the urge to look away because Connor is looking sincerely and fondly at him, and he's ready to melt away in embarrassment.

Connor turns back to look at his home before saying "Thanks, Evan," and his voice is so quiet that the words nearly disappear in the space between them. Moments pass without anything being said, before Connor finally speaks up again. "I guess I should go now," he says this casually, and it’s almost an anti-climatic ending to their time spent together. Evan nods, and Connor starts to walk away, before something suddenly crosses Evan's mind.

"Connor!" he says, then cringes inwardly at having shouted when Connor was still just a few steps away. "I– uhm, I… I'll see you soon, right?" and he puts emphasis on 'right'.

Connor gives the slightest hint of a smile, and answers "okay". The subtle promise is reassuring, and Evan watches Connor walk away, watches him knock at the door, watches him eventually disappear into the house. Evan spends a long moment staring at the door after Connor has disappeared. He starts to hear shouts coming from inside before he realises that he shouldn't be here, listening to the mess in a family that isn't his. Reluctantly, he turns around and starts to walk home.

It's in his walk home that Evan starts really thinking about the weekend they had shared. His mind immediately returns to the way Connor had smiled at him just minutes ago and it makes heat rush to his face almost immediately. Evan can't tell if it's the length of time at which Connor had stared at him, or something else entirely, but just the memory of the exchange leaves him feeling too warm. Recalling the rest of the time spent together, Evan's mind reminds him of the lingering stares, the close proximity, the smell of Connor's jacket, and even the warmth of Connor's body pressed against his own. Evan's completely sure that he has a fever by the time he reaches home, because the flood of all that's happened with Connor makes his blood rush to his face and his whole head feels too hot. At the same time, Evan mentally berates himself for not having been a better host and having offered Connor clothes to sleep in or a more comfortable place to sleep, although Connor had somehow failed to mind. Evan suddenly remembers that Connor had been willing to spend the night on the streets, and it makes him wonder how many times Connor had literally slept on the streets, having nowhere to go and being too reluctant to go home. It had to be reasonably often, Evan concluded, given the lack of distress on Connor's part upon having woken up in the middle of a dirt road.

Eventually, Evan forces himself to stop pondering about the unravelling mystery that was Connor Murphy, and instead start on his homework, which he'd put off all weekend.

Night falls and Evan barely finishes his work, courtesy of his impressive ability to be distracted by thoughts of Connor. If he thought his crush on Zoe had been bad, well, this was a whole new level. He manages to absorb like a solid half of the reading he's meant to have done by the next day, and it's good enough, he decides, because all efforts to get his biology text into his head had gone unrewarded. His eyelids are starting to get heavy, and the failure to get things done efficiently is seriously dampening whatever motivation (also known as anxiety) he'd had to get his work done. Throwing the relevant books back into his bag, Evan calls it a night before throwing himself onto his bed. There are some serious issues he has to work through, because he hasn't been able to stop thinking about Connor Murphy. The thoughts have ranged from a genuine, platonic concern of how he's been coping back at home, to a rose-tinted flashback of moments, and ridiculous daydreams that he's tempted to slap himself for. It's embarrassing, even for himself, and the number of times he's gone red from his thoughts alone has Evan hiding his face under the collar of his nondescript t-shirt for more times than he can count. Now in bed, Evan stares at his phone. The question of Connor's wellbeing has been eating at him since he had heard shouting from the Murphy household, so he forces the anxiety aside, just long enough to send a few texts to Connor.

'Are you doing alright?' There's no response for a while, and despite his body getting desperate for sleep, his mind keeps him awake with worries, about if Connor was mad that he hadn't texted earlier, or worse yet, if he was hurt and not able to reply. Evan tries, he really tries, to ignore the possibility that Connor had hurt himself again, to the point of being unable to respond. It makes his insides writhe with a near-painful discomfort and he has to force himself to breathe, slowly, numerous times.

It's a while later when sleep finally starts to get the better of him, so Evan sends another text, one that says 'I'm going to bed, but please take care. Talk soon, okay?' and then he lets himself slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

It's exactly 3.49am when Connor replies, and his hands are shaking but his mind is relatively calm, and the noise in his head is finally a quiet low hum, and he can deal with that.

'tiref but fine' he replies, before retiring to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot but I might be slowing down updates to once every two weeks after this, depending on if I can bang out another few thousand words :o we'll see!


	4. heart to heart and eyes to eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On earth, things fall at an acceleration of 9.81 meters per second. In the Murphy household, shit seems to go down at twice that speed, Connor thinks. He should probably learn to shut his damn mouth.

Connor's back in school the next day, Evan notices when he manages to catch a glimpse of him across a crowd. He's relieved, given a message at almost 3 in the morning was both unexpected and slightly worrying, although he has to admit, it was a nice rush to see that he had an unread message from Connor the moment he had woken up.

Evan's already half-way to approaching Connor, who was chucking things from his locker into his bag, when he suddenly freezes. It hadn't occurred to him before, but the thought manages to knock him off-kilter. What if Connor didn't want to be seen in school with him? It wasn't impossible, not in the slightest. Nobody knew Evan, he was practically unnoticeable, but the rare times they did, he was surely a laughing stock. Nobody would want to be seen around this mess of nerves, stuffed in this person to the brim that he practically leaked anxiety. Even Jared, with whom he had been friends with since they were in kindergarten, had made a distinction between friend and "family friend", to presumably keep up whatever school status he had to maintain. Shit, he thinks to himself, realising he clearly hasn't thought things through enough because even Evan wouldn't want to be associated with himself if he could help it, so why would Connor? His own spiraling self-doubt drags him down so hard and fast that Evan's fists are clenched, and his hands are clammy and he's staring a hole into the ground, in which he wishes repeatedly to be able to disappear into.

"Evan," a voice calls, and Evan nearly jumps out of his skin, his head jerking violently upwards to face whoever was speaking to him, and his body ready to take off at a moment's notice. And then he realises that it's Connor, and he's done getting whatever it was he needed from his locker, and he's even closed it and approached Evan, all in the time that he had been freaking out.

"Uh, h-hey, Connor," he says, and it's almost murderous to say because his nerves have his throat clamped almost shut, but he manages anyway.

"You, uh, okay? I saw you just standing there staring at the floor for a while," Connor says, and his voice manages to be a weak attempt at both teasing and concern.

"Yeah, I–" and Evan doesn't know how to explain that he's worried that Connor didn't want to be seen with him in school, so he just pauses for a long time and stares over to the side. "Just, crowds, y'know?" he lies, but Connor nods, so he figures it's a convincing enough lie. There's another awkward pause because they're still both new at the whole friends thing, and Evan interrupts his own train of thoughts to question if they were really friends now. Connor rubs idly at his left arm, seemingly unbothered by the awkward exchange they were having, both standing and staring at each other in a school corridor. 

"What's your first class?" Connor asks eventually, finally breaking the silence that Evan believes to be nerve-wracking.

"Uh, biology. You?" Evan answers, still unsure if Connor was truly okay with being seen with him in school, despite how Connor was speaking to him in the public eye.

"Math. I'm thinking of skipping."

"It's…only Monday, though," Evan says, as if the day made any difference to whether or not Connor felt like skipping class.

"Exactly," and Connor shoots him this lazy half-smirk, and Evan's heart unmistakably skips a beat, but for once, it isn't the anxiety.

But Evan's a responsible student and friend, so he pushes his dumb feelings aside and says, "You shouldn't skip school," with all the seriousness he can manage.

Connor looks at him, amusement clear on his face – and Evan ignores the things his heart does whenever Connor fixes him with any sort of look – and says, "Fine, fine. I won't skip my first day back." Evan smiles a little at this, before Connor continues "But we'll have to see about tomorrow," and Evan's approving smile turns into a disapproving frown. It amuses Connor even further, though, and Evan can't find the words to lecture Connor on the importance of attending school when his brain has turned to mush.

"See ya around, Hansen," Connor says while giving him a light pat on the shoulder, before heading towards his first lesson and, despite being called 'Hansen', Evan's still struggling to keep himself from turning red, so all he managed in response was a slightly belated, too-wide grin and a quiet 'bye'. Evan stands there silently for a moment, watching Connor's retreating back, when he's suddenly assaulted from behind and he barely manages not to scream.

"What the hell was that, Evan?" it's a voice that's all too familiar, and once he recovers from his initial heart attack, he has to keep himself from groaning.

"What, Jared?" he says, and it comes out a little snippy, which is understandable given the fact that Jared knows he's a nervous wreck but continues to jump him as a greeting. Every. Single. Time.

"That!" Jared exclaims, like that explains his need to put Evan into cardiac arrest, but then he gestures in the direction where Connor had headed towards. "You and Connor, being all buddy-buddy? What the hell, the guy's a psychopath!"

"He– he's not a psychopath!" 

"Wait so let me guess, he read your weird sex letter and then you guys meet up to kiss and make up, and then you have this extremely gay makeout session in your bedroom while your mom is at work."

"No!" and even Evan can hear that his response sounds too defensive.

Jared's laughing at him, and in between laughs he still manages to tease Evan further, saying "Wait, are you blushing?" before bursting into another round of laughter.

"I'm– I'm not blushing!" Evan insists, despite being extremely aware of how hot his face feels. "He– uhm, his parents found the letter, s-so they thought it was uhm his letter to me? And they thought we, uhm, that we were friends, so we, uh, started talking." It's technically the truth, just tweaked a little, and excluding crucial bits of information.

Jared lets up a little as his laughter dies down. "Yeah, yeah whatever you say." Evan starts to tune him out a little as they walk towards their first shared class, because Jared's gone on a spiel about how awesome he is at some new game he's been playing and Evan doesn't mind, he's just not very interested.

The rest of the school day passes decently enough. Connor and Evan meet up for lunch, and Evan figures Jared would be more than pleased to not have his bother of a 'family friend' around. Lunch with Connor is nice, because, while it's still riddled with silences that makes Evan fidget with discomfort, when they do talk, Connor has a way of making Evan feel like the things he said really mattered. Maybe it was the way Connor sat at an angle so that he could better face Evan, or the way he made a point to look convincingly interested and leaned forward when Evan spoke or prompted Evan to keep talking when he started backtracking in embarrassment. Whatever it was, it did wonders in calming Evan down and loosening him up to talking, regardless of his embarrassingly huge crush on Connor. In fact, Evan probably only felt this comfortable using his words around his own mom, and she was nearly obligated to be kind to him. So talking with Connor felt like a really, really good change. There was none of the harshness and belittling that he'd come to expect from Jared, none of the intimidation and interruptions he was familiar with from Alana, and none of the discomfort everyone else wore on their faces whenever Evan tried to talk to them. It made the period pass way more quickly than Evan had ever expected it to, just the two of them sitting on the steps of a rarely utilised staircase with their lunches balanced on their laps. Connor had settled for an apple, and Evan had packed himself two peanut butter sandwiches, one of which he offered to Connor but was politely declined.

* * *

A week goes by like this, and Connor feels like school has never been as tolerable as it is now. Between shoving down his ever-present adoration for Evan and paying minimal attention to any of his classes, Connor was actually getting by each day fairly decently. He hadn't skipped an entire week, which was better than he could do for all of the last semester, and lunches with Evan were spent hidden in a corner of the school where nobody went, and it was quiet and peaceful and it was just them. The days aren't perfect, they're far from it, in fact. Keeping up the facade of being a decent, put-together human being around Evan and staying in school had him emotionally wrecked nearly every evening. So he got high every night, to quiet the loud, agitating sounds buzzing in his head. Some days that are particularly good – he shares free period with Evan on Thursdays, and it's right before lunch – and his nights get twice as bad. He has the scars to prove that. It's unhealthy, he knows, but this is the first smidgen of happiness he's gotten in years, and he's not going to let the unhealthy habits that he already has anyways get in the way of that.

It's good, though. Crush aside, it's unbelievably good to have a friend. Just…someone who's there. Someone who listens to all his shit, and someone to spend time with, and someone who helps him relax and laugh, because fuck, he doesn't remember when he last laughed or even smiled before Evan. He spends the weekend over at Evan's again, and they spend time with empty talk while he watches Evan do his homework. The empty talk is new, and Connor never imagined he'd care enough to want to ask for the ridiculous nitty gritty details of another person, from their favourite colour, to what they liked and disliked to eat, the books they liked to read and other miscellaneous facts. He confirmed his suspicions that Evan loved blue, learnt that he read books about trees and forests and the environment, he hated sour and bitter things but could handle spicy foods well enough and he learnt that every small detail about Evan made him sink deeper and deeper into his hopeless crush.

And not to get his own hopes up, but it's hard not to notice a few little changes as the weeks pass. Initially, Jared had given Evan a daily dose of hellish teasing just for being around Connor so much, but then suddenly, the "school shooter accomplice" jokes stopped, and instead, he'd catch glimpses of Evan turning red from whatever Jared had said – Jared always having the most mischievous grin he'd ever seen on the gremlin's face – every time the two were together. In fact, he was pretty sure he had approached Evan once, right as Jared was leaving, and he'd caught Jared sending a wink Evan's way, causing Evan to turn incredibly red and had left him incoherent for a good few minutes. It was ridiculous how difficult it was for Connor not to get his hopes up over the little things like these and all the other little moments he's shared with Evan.

As weeks turned to months, Connor had gotten close to Evan, which was something that he'd never even imagined to happen. It was such a change, from being unbothered from having his phone confiscated because nobody ever contacted him anyways, to being practically glued to his phone because they were always talking. He'd gone from not having a single friend to having one unbelievably kind and understanding best friend, who was there to listen to all the bullshit that he usually kept bottled up inside so violently. He still kept the worst of his coping a secret. Evan knew Connor had a tendency to hurt himself and get high to feel okay, but he didn't know how often that happened and to what extent. The way his mood took a dive into the fucking abyss every time he left Evan only got worse as they spent more time together, and his need to self-medicate tripled as his body got even more desensitised to pot. Cutting only did so much, and his arms were already disgustingly marred, without a single unscarred area of skin. 

But that wasn't a big issue, not really. The real problem was his fucking family. Connor had taken to going over to Evan's for dinner together, every time Heidi had a night shift, so that Evan wouldn't have to order in on his own, and live off microwaveable foods, or leftovers. So Connor would go over, and they'd settle on dinner and watch a movie or talk or just laze about, comfortable in each other's presence. But because of how often Connor was out, from evening till late at night, his family was starting to have suspicions. It started with his mom's increasing insistence to know "where you keep disappearing to on the weekend! Connor, please just talk to me." And when that went nowhere, his dad started in on his ass. Family dinners just kept getting better and better.

"Where were you last night?"

"Out." Curt, succinct. There was never much point in saying anything more to his family, when nobody really heard him.

"Where, Connor?" his dad's voice is louder now, demanding. Connor knows that he's tensed up, he can feel the way his shoulders were raised, and his whole body is wound tight like a spring. He doesn't answer.

"Connor Murphy, answer me when I'm talking to you!" There's a loud sound as his dad slams a hand onto the table. Connor sets his jaw, glaring into his plate of a near-inedible vegan dinner.

"I was with a friend." His voice is apathetic, despite how he feels everything but.

"Don't lie to me, Connor," and Larry's pointing a finger at Connor's face which just really fucking pisses him off. 

"Alright," Connor says, his voice challenging, while he raises an eyebrow and stares Larry down. "I was with my dealer. I sucked him off for an extra baggie of pot."

Connor knows that he's just about fucked up big time, but he kind of really doesn't fucking care at this point, because the weed was wearing off and his brain is a mess again. It's almost worth the hell he knows is coming, to see Larry's face contort, first with disgust, before being overcome with rage, and he can't help but to smirk a little at the reaction he's getting. In his periphery, Connor sees the horrified shock on his mom's face, and he sees Zoe staring blankly at her plate, looking ready to bolt as soon as she needs to. He doesn't blame her. The hand that had previously been pointing at him pulls back, and Connor grimaces, because he knows what's coming. This isn't his first rodeo; his dad has been hitting him to 'toughen him up' for years. And outside his own home, Connor's proven he can take a hit. 

But the hit doesn't come. Instead, Larry says, "Get out." His voice is so quiet that it's undeniably more intimidating than the yelling that Connor's accustomed to. It breaks his apathetic facade.

"What?"

"You heard me. I said get out." Larry's pretty much snarling at him now and Connor knows things will get worse if he doesn't move, and he doesn't really want to know how much worse things could get. He stands, and his chair scraping loudly across the floor is the only thing that disturbs the eerie silence of the house, because everyone else doesn't dare to move when the air hangs so heavily around them.

He's never been thrown out before. This is new. He's left home and stayed on the streets a night or two, sure, but that's always of his own accord, and he could always go back whenever he wanted.

"Fine. I'll pack my shit," he says finally, and then turns to go upstairs to his room. 

He grabs some shitty duffel bag that he's never had use for, and starts haphazardly throwing in some essentials. The remainder of his stash of weed and rolling paper, his packs of cigarettes, his wallet, like 4 shirts and 2 pairs of pants and some underwear, his shit for school, his knife, a couple of hoodies and some other things he thinks he might need. Half-way through packing, he hears the door of the room next to his slam shut. He wonders if Zoe had said anything to their parents, or if she had just finished her food silently before leaving as quickly as she could. He knows she blames him for the state of this family, and the failing relationship of his parents. He doesn't blame her for this, either, because he's pretty sure that it's his fault, too. From the kitchen, shouts are being exchanged loudly enough for Connor to hear. He can tell his mom is crying again, and once again, it's his fault. He can hear her begging Larry not to kick out their own son. He can hear Larry telling her that he "never raised a queer goddamned druggie". He stops listening. Instead, he grabs the duffel bag and slings it on his shoulder. There's no reason to say his goodbyes to anyone, not in Connor's opinion, anyways. Zoe and Larry probably wouldn't care, and his mom was already crying hard enough as is, so he just leaves wordlessly, letting the slam of the front door be the only goodbye he gives his family. 

For a while, his brain had been blank. It had been almost painfully empty, as if someone had just switched him off and he had been moving on autopilot as he packed his shit. Now, far away from his family and his house and Larry, it was as if he'd been switched on again. The realisation of having nowhere to go slams down on him hard, as does the fact that he won't last very long on his own especially without money, and as much as he hated his house, a room and a bed would be preferred to the dirty, littered back alleys where he usually stayed during his nights on the streets. There's a panic rising in his chest, and before it's muffled under the crashing realisation of how his own family has pretty much abandoned him, first leaving him to his own devices, despite all the fucked up shit in his head, and now leaving him on the streets to do as he pleased. It wasn't news to him, definitely, but until now, there had been some benefit of the doubt that his family still gave a fuck about him, because at least they kept him around and wasted money on feeding him and all that. But now, it's pretty clear that he's just been weighing down everyone else, a huge fucking waste of space and expenses, and they're getting rid of the extra burden they don't need in their otherwise-perfect lives. It all did fucking wonders to his brain, as words harshly flood his mind, repeating the same words and phrases over and over again. Worthless, pathetic fucking waste of space. 

His own family hates him. Everyone would be better off dead without him. 

Useless. 

Fucking useless. 

Just die, kill yourself already. 

Everyone hates you.

You're such a fucking burden.

Kill yourself.

It didn't stop. He couldn't stop it. He kept walking, away from his home, trying to outrun the shit in his head. As his pace quickened, so did the frequency of the thoughts. His arms itched to bleed while his mind just wouldn't stop screaming. He needed…something. He wanted to leave and never come back, he wanted to be gone for good, he needed to be gone, he needed to leave, go somewhere, anywhere. God, he's such a mess. He…

He recognises this neighbourhood.

In his desperate state of mind, he hadn't even noticed where his legs were carrying him. He just walked and walked. But now, Evan's door is just there, mere steps away, and Connor's too much of a mess to turn away. Too much of a mess to keep Evan safe from all the shit in his fucked up life. So he takes the last steps towards Evan's door and knocks a few times, in rapid succession.

Eventually, the door opens.

Evan is painfully reminded of the first time Connor appeared in front of his door, a tired, fragile-looking mess, dirtied from soil and with dead leaves still clinging to his hair. Instead, Connor stands there in front of him looking vastly different yet still somehow the same. His eyes are wild and scared, his hands shaking in a way Evan recognises all too well. Connor looks fragile now, too, but in a different way he had the first time, when he was worn down by days spent in a hospital. Evan doesn't say anything, doesn't ask Connor why he's here. He just opens the door wider, makes room for Connor to walk in, and then closes the door gently behind the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer's block is hell?? so this fic will update every 2 weeks instead, sorryyyy ^^"


	5. i'm cutting my mind off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life sucks, but it's pretty fine and dandy in the Hansen Household, and Connor's easing into the family pretty decently. It's expected, given that he's been going over to Evan's house more often than he'd like to admit, but still.

There's a sense of relief that Evan feels, seeing Connor stand inside his home, so fragile and almost breakable, because it's as if Evan's home is all that stands between Connor and the outside world that hurt him, and Evan is more than happy to see Connor protected. Connor moves slowly, as if tired and unsure and weighed down by a million demons that Evan can't see. Slowly, he extends his hand, lets Connor take it, which he does, and Evan leads him upstairs to his room, slowly. Connor had been on edge when he'd arrived at Evan's home, but it didn't take long before the crazed look in his eyes were replaced by a distant, faraway stare that looked beyond the things he saw. Evan knew that look, knew where Connor's mind was. He sits Connor down onto his bed, throws the blanket loosely around his shoulders and gives him a long, sad look, knowing that this will pass, but not knowing when. "I'm going to get you water, Connor. Stay right here." Evan's voice is so soft that it barely reaches Connor's ears. But he hears, and gives a fraction of a nod, and then Evan is leaving the room for a glass of water, and so Connor is left alone in the room, accompanied only by the distant sound of footsteps going hurriedly down stairs. He grabs the edges of the blanket, wraps them around himself tighter, and pictures disappearing into the bed. He imagines that disappearing would probably be for the better, anyways. Connor feels sad, melancholic even, and he thinks he might cry if not for his lack of tears, and his overwhelming fatigue. When Evan comes back, Connor vaguely feels the sensation of the cool glass pressed against his lips, and then the water flowing smoothly down his throat. Then, the glass is removed, and Connor stares blankly at his hands that rest in his lap. Evan watches him, sees the way that Connor curls in on himself and how his eyes are half-lidded and how Connor almost droops, like he's wilting. Evan tells him to go to bed, and Connor feels the sensation of hands on his shoulder and arm as he shifts himself to lay down on the bed. It's a comfortable bed, and for the first time in months, Connor feels so safe that he almost lets himself drift off into sleep immediately. He sees Evan turn to leave, give him privacy, he assumes. It takes every last bit of energy for Connor to say "stay" and it's a quiet plea that almost doesn't reach Evan's ears. It does nonetheless, and Evan nods, closes the bedroom door, and sits softly on the edge of the bed, so that Connor can feel his presence as he drifts off to sleep. Once asleep, Evan stands quietly, careful not to wake Connor, and goes to sit at his desk. He feels an unfamiliar compulsion to keep Connor safe in his room, so he stays there, alternating between doing his homework, out of a lack of anything else to do, and keeping a watchful eye over Connor.

Evan checks on Connor every now and then, throwing a glance over his shoulder, as if he's afraid Connor might disappear. But short glances turn to long, wistful stares, because Evan can't help but feel drawn to the way Connor looks so vulnerable yet peaceful, and Evan has to resist every urge to reach out, brush the hair away from Connor's face, trace the outline of his jaw with the back of his knuckles. Evan hates himself a little bit for this, knows it isn't the right time or the right place, knows that Connor is vulnerable and he still doesn't know why, but he knows that whatever the reason, it's reason enough to not press his lips to Connor's, no matter how badly he wanted to when he had pressed the glass of water to Connor's lips. It's…really disgusting, he thinks to himself, having these thoughts about his closest friend who obviously was in no state of mind to both reciprocate and to refuse. Evan forces himself to stop, but his will is weak, and he entertains the thoughts, but makes himself swear not to act on them while Connor's still in such a messy mental state. That, at least, he can handle.

About an hour passes before Connor wakes up, and he's confused and a little bit freaked out but he's still too groggy to actually do anything. Instead, he takes in the surrounding, noting that it definitely isn't his room, but it's familiar enough that he's significantly less freaked out. Searching his mind for the details of last night, Connor sits up and looks around the room, and –oh. It's Evan. He's in Evan's room. He's in Evan's bed. It's…he doesn't know how he feels. On one hand, he's tired and numb and he's not sure he feels much of anything. On the other, the bed is comfy and warm and it smells distinctly and unmistakeably like Evan, and he wants to sink back under the covers and wrap himself up in the safety of Evan's sheets. Instead, he looks at Evan, who had heard the sheets shuffle as he sat up, and makes eye contact for a moment before glancing away. Connor's not entirely sure of what happened once he reached here. His mind is a blur, as always, and he's embarrassed by the fuzzy memory of Evan wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. The warmth of the memory makes his face warm as well, which he hopes Evan doesn't notice. 

Seeing that Connor's awake, Evan hesitantly stands, but concern outweighs his anxiety and he approaches Connor anyways, careful but sure.

"Connor, a-are you okay?" he asks, and then he adds, "Can I sit down next to you?"

Connor doesn't meet his gaze and he doesn't answer whether or not he's okay. He just nods, and Evan gingerly sits down on the edge of the bed next to him. Connor wants nothing more than to lean into Evan, curl up into his side and hide his face in Evan's shoulder. But he's tired, too tired to ask and unsure if he deserves any more kindness when he's already in Evan's bed, wrapped up in his blanket.

"Do you want to talk yet?" Evan asks again, quietly, so that even the walls can't hear. Connor shakes his head, pulls up his knees and hides his face behind them.

"Can I— do you, uhm. Do you need anything? Can I do anything for you?" Evan's staring into Connor's eyes — Dr Sherman will be so proud of him — but Connor's attention is on the space somewhere in front of him. Connor doesn't answer, and Evan almost thinks he won't respond at all, until Connor's turning from where he sits, pushing his forehead into Evan's shoulder and Evan doesn't know what to do, not really. But he brings his arms up around Connor anyways, and presses him tightly against his own chest. Connor heaves against him, and Evan wonders if he's crying. He's not, but it's taking him a lot of effort not to, and so he's just breathing heavily and shuddering into Evan. It's a tender touch that Connor hasn't known since he was…maybe 10 or 11, his own parents don't hold him in a way that he knows he's safe, but Evan has one hand rubbing circles into his back, and the other hand is resting gently on the back of his head, and Connor feels like nothing else will hurt him now.

Eventually, Connor pulls away, and Evan lets him, although they both immediately miss the feeling of holding the other so close. Connor runs a hand roughly through his hair, pushing stray strands away from his face in the process. He doesn't trust his voice, but he doesn't care, not right now, anyways. Slowly, he forces himself to speak.

"Larry kicked me out." His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse. "You'd think family will stick with you, even if you're fucked up." Evan knows how that feels, knows that he'd learnt at 7 that family isn't as strong a bond as everyone else would have him believe, but then his own mom did stick it out with him. She stuck it out through nervous breakdowns in his teenage years, and days where he was too scared to actually tell her what was wrong, and tears he couldn't explain but couldn't stop. So maybe his dad had left, but his mom had shown him what family was really like, distant as she may be now. She wouldn't leave him, that much he's sure of, or at least he thinks so, because she does so much for him and as much as it brings him unbearable guilt, he can't help but to admit that it makes him feel like someone actually cares, like he matters. Evan imagines how it would be like to be abandoned by the family that you imagined would stay by your side. Which means, Evan imagines what it would be like if Heidi had forced him out of their home. The thought makes him sick, like the sheer betrayal and disbelief and abandonment had wrapped their claws around his body and squeezed tightly. He takes a careful glance at Connor, whose head drooped as he stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching them, as if he wasn't sure they were his. His impulse kicks in before his anxiety can stop him — it only manages to make him hesitate for a second to check if his hands were sweaty — and he reaches out to put a hand in one of Connor's open, upturned palms. Connor flinches, just slightly out of shock, but shows no sign of pulling away.

"It's okay," Evan says, quiet. "You'll be okay."

Connor hesitates, then nods. He uses his free hand to pull his fringe back again and straightens up, as if trying to regain his composure. He still doesn't let go of Evan's hand, because it's comforting and nice and Connor doesn't really want to admit that he really likes holding Evan's hand, anyways.

"Yeah," he says. It's quiet, so he repeats himself, louder this time. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Uh, thanks, Evan." Connor is almost shy when he turns to face Evan with a small, tired yet somehow genuine smile on his face. Evan can't help but smile back, because Connor was trying to be optimistic for his sake and more than that, it's really hard not to smile when Connor was looking that sincere. Eventually, though, Connor pulls his hand back and tucks both of them into the pockets of his hoodie. "But uh, I'm still kind of homeless for the time being. Which sucks," he sighs, looking conflicted.

"Y-you can stay here!" Evan says, almost immediately, and cutting off whatever it was that Connor might have continued to say. "I just, uhm— I have to let my mom know but? She'll definitely be okay with it! I, uhm let me just call her?"

Connor nods. He's not used to being a charity case, but he's relieved as hell to know he'll have somewhere to stay, even if it's temporary. He doesn't plan on overstaying his welcome, and he thinks he might leave before he's kicked out of here too, but he'll burn that bridge when he gets to it. He leaves the room while Evan goes on the phone with his mom. He needs to stretch his legs and maybe light up outside to calm his nerves and the ever-present noise in his head. Thank god he brought his cigarettes. He grabs his pack from his duffel bag, disposed haphazardly by the front door and lets himself out with the keys he found on the kitchen counter. The smoke does wonders in taking off the edge, and Connor takes a long drag as he loiters outside the Hansen household.

* * *

Connor has practically been granted ownership over the couch, although Heidi demands he folds up his blanket and returns the pillows to Evan's room every morning. As a freeloader, Connor forces himself to comply, even when he's groggy and pissed about being awake. At the very least, it gives him a reason to barge into Evan's room, usually while he's still asleep, and admire the view for a bit like a total fucking creep. Heidi also expects Connor to go to school with Evan, refusing to let him skip because being in school helps keep you busy or something, and she's too insistent and yet too nice for him to be rude in return, so he does as she says.

Jared notices on the second day of staying at Evan's house that Evan and Connor have started arriving to school together, and he has a fucking field day with the fact. His first response is an attempt to high five Evan, and upon being rejected, he turns to Connor and says, "So is Evan as nervous in sex as he is in general or does he, like, suddenly get all dominant?"

Evan's turned red, but Connor just scoffs, throws an arm around Evan's shoulders and says, "Wouldn't you like to know." He even punctuates the sentence with a lazy grin, and Evan can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face. Jared busts out laughing at this, before going 'good one, Murphy,' and leaving to head off to his own locker.

Alana Beck notices this as well, because she has a tendency to intercept Evan as he walks through the school doors (and how she manages to time this so perfectly, Evan will never know). She runs into him on the fourth day, greeting Evan with a grin. "Evan! That's great timing, I was just looking for you." And then she notices that Connor's walked in with him, and not only that, but he's looming a little dauntingly behind Evan, like some sort of shadow. "Oh! Connor, are you and Evan friends? Evan is a very close acquaintance of mine," she says to Connor, nodding earnestly as she does so. Connor attempts to return the greeting, but before he can even open his mouth, Alana's already turning her attention back to Evan. "Evan, I've looked through your essay and it's really good, but you go off-point a lot of the time, so I think we should meet up during lunch one of these days to go over it."

"Oh! You didn't, uhm, h-have to until next week in class, though," Evan says, a little confused yet impressed with Alana's dedication.

"Yeah, but I just wanted to get a head-start on it. So, I'll see you for lunch on Friday. We have the same break, I've checked. Anyways, I need to go see a teacher about volunteering to tutor middle school children with learning disabilities. It was nice talking to you, Connor. Bye!"

They're both a bit at a loss for words, after the stunningly imposing conversation with the terrifyingly capable Alana Beck. After a few seconds of silent recovery, Connor turns to Evan. "Close acquaintance?" he asks, amusement obvious in his voice. "Don't most people call those 'friends'?"

Evan laughs a little at that. "I'm not sure why, but I don't think I've ever a-actually heard Alana call anyone her 'friend'? Just… 'acquaintance'. And 'close acquaintance', apparently."

Connor hums in acknowledgement. "She's nice, at least." Connor knows Alana, she's the valedictorian, but she was also his lab partner and his partner in an English project, once. And despite the fact that his reputation had already been ruined by then, Alana was nothing if not kind to him, even with his stick-up-his-ass attitude, and complete disdain for all things school-related. He did feel bad at some point of the English project, and relented to help out where he could, even though she had been plenty capable herself. In lab, he had just watched, head resting on his arms that were folded over the desk, as she flawlessly carried out experiments in record time. Somehow, she had been one of the few people who, despite having interacted with him, did not hate him.

"Y-yeah, she's one of the uh only people who talk to me? Aside from Jared? And well, now you, I guess." Connor nods as a response, because he thinks he can see Alana's M.O., can see the way she's nice to kids that nobody else even cares about, and it makes him wonder what she's really like behind the bright smiles and commitments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fic posting is catching up to my fic-writing and school is hell, send help bois. Also! Alana!! My no.1 girl!!! She's here!!!!!


	6. 'cause seeing clear would be a bad idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor,
> 
> this isnt a good life. and tomorrow might not be a good day.  
> but today is okay.  
> today is good.
> 
> sincerely, ur pal,  
> connor

The weekend rolls around soon enough, and Evan notes that school is much more bearable with Connor by his side. It's easy to shut out the imagined stares and whispers that he's always so sure are there when there's someone by your side, and a conversation to pull your attention away from the crowds, so you just focus on the words. They've gotten into the routine of leaving school together, regardless of the time, and it's always so calming. Connor doesn't mind wasting time, so Evan asks to take a longer route to get home this time. They don't need to talk – it's a ridiculously foreign concept to Evan but somehow, he's comfortable when the silence is shared with Connor – but Connor asks about how Evan's classes had been anyway, and Evan occasionally points out particular trees and some birds that he thinks look better than the others. They end up taking about ten minutes more, and the route isn't any more scenic than the usual one, just a little more shaded. They passed by a house with an enthusiastic golden retriever that barked at them from the inside, which had Evan smiling.

"I love dogs," Evan says, as they stood and stared at the dog, pawing on the glass of the window. "I…I would love to have one, some day. Once I know I can take care of myself."

Connor nods. "I think I'd rather have a cat. I'm not that big on having to walk a dog every day. But dogs are great, and anything's better than people." Evan nods wholeheartedly in agreement. A pet won't judge you the way a person would, and they both could use a little less judgement. They end up at Evan's front door soon enough, and the silence that had spanned the walk was nice. Connor likes walking with Evan. He likes spending time with Evan, and quiet walks in the park used to be too much noise in his head, but the noise is drowned out with a calm when he's with Evan. His mind focuses almost completely on the wind caressing his hair, the sun on his skin, and the crunching sound beneath their feet with every step. He wonders if the noise in Evan's head is quiet, too, and hopes that it is. Evan steps inside, while Connor drops his bag by the door and sits at the front steps for a smoke. He's stayed here a whole week, and honestly? Things are okay. It could be much worse, but for the most part, it's just been quality time with Evan, and the occasional glimpse of Heidi. He skips classes, since it's more trouble to skip school without a car, and drags himself to only the classes he shares with Evan. So technically, things were okay.

Or they should be. Because things were definitely not okay. He's been on edge and on the verge of a very very self-destructive breakdown, and only the constant presence of Evan is keeping him from just dying there and then. The truth of the matter was that he had put a dam on the onslaught of thoughts in his head, the ones that had resurfaced to the very front of his mind the day he had been kicked out, and since then, he'd barely been able to keep the thoughts from coming through. Cracks kept forming in his mental dam, the only thing keeping himself from breaking, and he worried that if the wall broke, so would he. Now, a week has passed, and there were holes he couldn't patch up, and leaks that he couldn't stop. He kept remembering things that had happened, growing up.

Of course, there were several moments that just kept coming back to haunt him, no matter how badly he tried to force them out of his mind.

His fifteenth birthday, when he decided he'd lived fifteen years too long, and his parents seemed to agree that the proper way to celebrate a birthday was by screaming at him, and then at each other. They'd taken to divorce threats and reopening old wounds when Connor had decided that he had caused enough fights in this family. Zoe's glare alone was more than enough to tell him that she blamed him for tearing their family apart. So, he stole all the aspirin that he could find, snuck out of the house with a water bottle and huddled up in a quiet spot, tucked away in a corner at the park near his house. After all, he didn't want to be found before he was gone. He took all of the aspirin, which came up to about 30 capsules, and swallowed them in fives, gulping down water as he did so. Connor remembers the clarity that he had felt then, he remembers that despite the frantic need to disappear, he had been thoughtful, quiet and clear-headed as he sat under a tree, clutching the pills in his hand. He remembers having taken a nap after that, and waking up to his father, gripping his shoulders and roughly shaking him. He hadn't understood the conflicted look on his dad's face. He didn't understand why his mom was crying. They sent him to the hospital after that.

He remembers that when he was ten, he'd brought his crush home. It was a boy from school, David, who would lend him books that he thought Connor would like, and share snacks with him at break. Being ten, Connor didn't know what to do with a crush, but he'd invited him over for video games and before David had left the Murphy household, Connor had given him a kiss on the cheek, which earned him a beaming, hopeful smile from the other boy. It should have been the best day of his life so far, but he somehow missed the fact that Larry had been standing there, how he had witnessed the entire exchange, from the kiss to the nervous laughter between the two boys to the innocently anticipative 'see you in school, Connor' that David had said in response. Connor winces at this memory, because he hardly remembers what happens next. The following hours were blurred together to be an unrecognisable onslaught of insults and threats, that he only ever hears in his father's voice now. He remembers his father saying "I never raised a queer goddamned druggie" and suddenly all he can hear is "your son is a fag" and "I should've known that you're a homosexual" and year after year of "you need to do sports so you'll be less girly", "stop reading", "you need a haircut, do you want people to know?" He remembers how, at the end of that day with David, Larry had nearly slapped him for asking 'what's so wrong about liking boys'. He remembers how Larry had stopped right before his hand touched Connor's face, remembers the forced self-restraint that curled his open palm into a ball, remembers the appalled look he gives Connor, as if he had been infected with something vile and incurable. Connor remembers exactly how it sounded when his own father called him 'disgusting', before turning to walk away.

The worst part about that was how it changed the way he acted from then on. He learnt within the next few months that anything he did that wasn't masculine enough for his father's liking earned him anything from a stern lecture to a slap strong enough that his neck would hurt from turning so fast and his face would stay red for hours. So, he never talked to David again, he no longer let Zoe paint his nails, he kept his hair shorter than he'd like, he never read when he was at home, he didn't cry, didn't talk too much, didn't do anything that could get him in trouble. And then it got worse, because slowly, he'd become hypercritical about everything he did. Was he walking the right way? Talking the right way? Did he say the right things? What if someone found out? What if his dad found issue with one thing or another? What if someone else hurt him for being gay? The paranoia never stopped, and neither did the verbal abuse, every time he slipped up, and did or said something that just wasn't enough, like watching a Disney princess movie with Zoe (it was Beauty and the Beast, and he'd agreed because it was her favourite).

He remembers his breaking points. The first was when he shut out the fear that had manifested inside of him with drugs. The second was the day he gave up appeasing his dad.

He's about to spiral further down that train of thought when suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed it, but his eyes are watery and Evan had stepped outside to check on him. Connor looks away, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall as he blinks them away.

"Are you okay? Do you wanna come inside?" Evan's voice is gentle, and everything that Connor is not. He doesn't answer, just nods numbly and lets Evan guide him by his hand to the couch. Evan's touch is as gentle as his voice had been, and Connor wonders if his own touch is as rough as he is. He wonders if his hand is prickly in Evan's the way that his personality is. He wonders if his rough edges were sharp enough to cut into Evan's softer ones.

Connor is fucked up, he knows this. He knows that Evan isn't perfectly sane either. He's seen the pills the other boy pops daily, and he's guided Evan through enough panic attacks to know that Evan isn't the poster boy for being normal. But Evan isn't Connor. Evan didn't have multiple suicide attempts to his name, didn't have scars running up and down his body, didn't have his father's voice in his head and the sting of his palm burnt forever into his face. Evan doesn't have the history of overdosing and throwing up alone in a back alley with nobody around, or the history of stealing money for drugs or exchanging services for drugs or just being hooked on drugs to escape his own uninhabitable body and mind. Evan was so much more than he was, and Connor may be a dick but he isn't that bad of a person. He's not going to drag Evan down into his own mess and he definitely can't stay long enough to let that happen. He knows how to get around, knows how to survive on the streets for some days, and he hopes to everything that it's enough to get him through the indefinite period of time that he's going to be gone.

Monday, he decides. He'll enjoy one more weekend before he stops being a burden on an honest, hard-working single mother and a threat to the mental health of her kind, anxiety-ridden son.

* * *

The weekend passes, disappointingly, like any other that Connor has spent at Evan's home. He doesn't ask for anything special, despite desperately wanting to have some kind of comfort before he leaves, but he doesn't want to tip Evan off about what he's planning, doesn't want Evan to worry. So, he spends a lot of it just lazing in Evan's bed while on his phone, watching Evan studiously attempt to do homework between constantly bouncing his leg and nervously clicking his pen. Connor doesn't think he'll be gone forever, just for a while, until his family says he can go back (he wonders if he actually will), or until…

He isn't sure. Staying here, in this odd state of comfort from Evan's constant presence, is the most at ease he's ever felt. But that's exactly why he has to leave. He doesn't want to wait for the other shoe to drop, it's not a fall that Connor is confident he can actually withstand. So, he has to leave before it does. Nights out spent at smoking with stoners and staying the night with all the other teenage fuck-ups convince him he'll be fine on his own, and he ignores any reasonable argument otherwise. He can't stay here. Comfort is suffocating when you're sure that the world is out to get you, and he knows for a fact that it is, which is why he can't seem to breathe anymore. Which is why he has to leave, and the thought sounds like forced affirmation, even in his own head. But he has to leave, he knows it, and so he tries to capture the image in front of him.

His eyes trace over the shape of Evan, hunched over his table. He tries to memorise this, tries to memorise just how Evan's blond hair stands, how he'll sit back every few minutes to review what he's written down, how he'll suddenly sit up straight – as if he'd previously forgotten to do so – after slouching too much. Connor feels an anxiety build up in his gut, the hurricane from the flaps of the wings of all the butterflies in his stomach, because he really likes Evan. He likes Evan so much that it scares him. He doesn't want to like Evan, not when he knows he doesn't have a chance and even if he did, he didn't want to do that to Evan. He didn't want to drag Evan down with him. Evan was a little bit all over the place, sure, but he was a good kid, smart, too. And he could actually go places. Connor may have a savings account dedicated solely to college tuition, but he didn't have anywhere to go or anything he wanted to do with his life.

Evan spins his chair around, breaking Connor out of his train of thought as Evan makes a brief moment of eye contact. 

"I'm done with my work," he says, and it sounds like a question and he looks a little unsure.

Connor nods, but sees that there's obviously something on Evan's mind so he asks, "What?"

"Since there's not much to do, do you want to, uhm, g-go out? I mean– we don't have to! W-we can stay here and um watch a movie, i-if you want?"

Connor almost laughs at how Evan manages to be nervous, even after they've spent most of every day this week around each other. "Out is fine. Do you have anywhere in mind?"

"Not really? A-anywhere is fine, really, I just wanted some fresh air?"

Connor considers this for a second, and gets an idea, ignoring how much his idea sounds like some sort of romantic date. It was just going to be a memorable, temporary goodbye and thank you gesture for having housed him. "Will your mom let us use her car?"

"As long as we don't wreck it, sure." Evan pauses for a beat. "You won't wreck it, right?"

Connor lets himself grin lazily, as he walks out of Evan's bedroom, as he says over his shoulder, "No promises, Hansen."

Evan breaks into a pretty wide smile, because he knows Connor is joking, but it doesn't stop him from protesting anyways.

They get in the car, and they don't really talk, because Evan's staring out the window, and Connor's driving, and they're both enjoying the silence and each other's comfortable presence. Since it isn't his car, Connor doesn't have his usual mix to drive to, so he just lets whatever is in the car radio play. Surprisingly, Heidi has her own driving mix filled with pretty decent classic rock songs, most of which Connor doesn't recognise, but decides that he likes. Evan seems comfortable with the songs as well, and Connor lets him set the volume, which is quiet but just loud enough that the silence isn't overwhelming. It plays in the background of his thoughts like a gentle, warm hum.

Connor drives for a good 20 minutes, in a direction that Evan doesn't usually go towards, and within 10 minutes of driving, Evan already doesn't recognise the passing landscape. Connor seems sure, though, so Evan leans back in his seat and enjoys the way the scenery passes by. He sneaks glances at Connor, too. Evan notes that Connor looks calm, but there's a worry that's etched in his face. The worry gets replaced with confusion as Connor catches him staring. 

"What?" he asks, and there's a hint of general interest and a bit of amusement.

"Nothing!" the defensiveness is instinctive, and Evan recovers quickly. "You look calm. It…it's nice." Feeling shy now, Evan stares down at his arms, at Connor's name on his cast, and clenches and unclenches his fingers.

Connor huffs, although he's not mad, and a lock of hair is blown away from his face for a moment. He makes a point to angle himself so that his hair frames his face and hides the slight shyness that might be clear to anyone who saw. His eyes are trained on the road ahead, but he still responds with an unsure "Thanks? I think."

A little bit after the 20-minute mark of driving, Connor stops at a humble establishment with rather cute decorations, and a pastel colour scheme.

"Ice cream?" Evan asks, vaguely recognising the name, À La Mode. 

Connor nods, "Haven't actually been here for a long time." He holds the door for Evan, and he's spent enough time around Evan to just ask for his order, and make the order on behalf of both of them. Evan is extremely relieved, both at Connor and the lack of other patrons in the place. The decision isn't hard, Evan already knows his go-to option for ice cream, and he tells Connor that he wants strawberry. Connor elbows him, it's a little rough but it isn't bad, and calls him 'boring', which might have stung if not for the affectionate and playful look on his face and tone of voice. 

Evan retaliates by telling Connor that his salted caramel isn't special either. It's Evan's protests against eating in the car – "We might stain something! Do you want my mom to kill us both?" – that forces them to stay, tucked away in a corner booth in the shop.

"This place is nice," Evan says, thankful that the tables and floors aren't sticky from ice cream. The entire shop is rather well-maintained, and Evan can appreciate that. "When was the last time you've been here?"

Connor knows that answer exactly. It was the day before their senior year began, because Connor had plans on not seeing more than a day of his senior year, and he wanted to see this little shop one last time. The place was nostalgic for him, and the days from his childhood left a slight pang in his heart and a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He could almost hear the laughter, echoing from the past, if he focused on it.

"It's been a few months," Connor says, focusing his attention on Evan, and his ice cream, and now. "I came back here out of nostalgia. And before that, it's been years." This isn't a day to remember the days and months and years that he's lost. It's a good day, for once, and he plans to keep it that way for a few more hours, at least.

They talk over ice cream, and it's comfortable and quiet, like they were old friends sharing a secret. The conversation is light, and easy, and Evan imagines this is how all conversations should be like. Easy. Talking with Connor was simple. There was no fear of unspoken judgement, and he didn't have to worry about rushing his words out so that Connor wouldn't get bored and shift his attention. Evan tries not to think too hard about being the only person receiving Connor's attention. Connor, on the other hand, tries not to stare too hard at how Evan's mouth moved, from speaking, from smiling, and from the ice cream. Connor tries unbelievably hard not to stare. Connor finishes his first, because Evan sometimes gets into these rambles that he can't seem to stop, and Connor wouldn't want to stop them, but it gives Connor a lot more time to just listen and eat. When Evan finally finishes his ice cream, and Connor gently kicks his shoe, standing up as he says, "C'mon, this isn't our final stop." Evan rushes to follow behind him, clambering out of his seat to follow Connor back into the car. Evan sinks down into his seat, and he has to admit that he hasn't felt this calm and content since…well, as long as he could remember. The taste of strawberry ice cream and its coldness are still pretty distinct in his mouth, and he wonders where they're headed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dskljfakfjdskjf school is catching up and exams are soon and life is tough im sorry this is 2 days late??? also im a bored and lonely soul so talk to me on tumblr @casualghost anyways hope u enjoy?


	7. lonely moments just get lonelier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a good day, a bad night, and a terrible morning.

Evan stares in awe as he's hit by memories if a childhood he thought was forgotten, staring at the familiar sign of the local apple orchard, aged, decaying around the edges, and with spots of moss and fungi growing on it. While Evan takes in the sight of the entrance to the orchard, Connor appreciates the look of recognition, then excitement, that shows on Evan's face. He tries to memorise the way Evan looks, and hopes his mind will be clear enough for him to sketch this later.

"I forgot we even had an apple orchard!" Evan says, and he's beaming. The smile is contagious, and Connor tries and fails to suppress it.

"Yeah, it's closed down, but I thought you might like it?" Connor says, with a nervous smile and a hand in his hair.

"I do! L-like it, I mean. I used to come here? When I was really little and my dad was still, um, around a-and he would drive us on the weekends and I loved the trees and the apples here were the best? And I just forgot, because dad left. A-and it was far away, and mom had to work to raise me, so we didn't have time. And it wasn't like I could go myself because it was so far away? I haven't-- I haven't been here since I was 7, Connor. I, that's-- this was my favourite place, thank you!" It came out in a nervous rush, but one that Connor was accustomed enough with that he had no problem understanding it. So, Connor smiles again, subtly hiding his face behind his fringe.

"Don't… uh, don't worry about it, Ev," Connor says, and it's soft and genuine, and Evan's smile in response is just as soft and genuine, and Connor can feel his heart racing in his chest. Walking towards the entrance, Connor says "Let's go in," before hoisting himself onto the fence, and sitting expectantly on it for Evan to follow his lead.

A tiny part of Evan is scared they'll get caught trespassing. But the fear felt miniscule, compared to whatever feeling was propelling him forward, and before he could worry at all, he had taken his place on the fence, right next to Connor. The view wasn't exceptionally incredible, not really, but to Evan, it was breath-taking. The comforting presence of his friend, his best friend, next to him, with the sun hanging low in the sky over a field of overgrown grass and weeds, and neat rows of trees that somehow survived, in the midst of so many which were dying and leafless and, somehow, made each living tree look miraculous and beautiful. For the most part, each tree towered over them, seated on the low, 2 metre-tall fence, but the dead ones were nowhere near as large as the few that thrived, standing proud and tall, flaunting their survival. Evan doesn't catch that Connor's too distracted in staring at his wonder to take in the view in front of them, instead choosing to memorise the way the late afternoon sun cast its rays onto Evan, and how he seemed to glow in the light. It strikes Connor that he doesn't want to leave, and something thick and unpleasant claws its way up his throat. Connor swallows, hard, and forces himself to pretend that nothing is happening. He pretends that this moment is infinite.

It comes to an end when Evan turns to meet his eyes, a little shy but mostly amazed, and Connor looks away, jumps off the fence into the orchard and gestures at Evan to do the same.

They walk further into the orchard, surrounded by dead trees that towered so high around them. Connor takes joy on stepping on dried leaves as they walk. "I come here when I need somewhere quiet," he says, staring at the ground. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and, with his head down, Evan notices that Connor looks smaller than he's ever seen him. "Nobody else ever seems to come here. It's good."

Evan puts a hand on Connor's forearm, and waits until Connor looks up from the dried leaves on the ground and meets his eyes. "Th-thanks for bringing me here, Connor," Evan says, smiling sincerely. 

Connor smiles slightly, as he feigns annoyance and rolls his eyes. He elbows Evan as he says "Don't act like this is a big deal. I brought you to dead trees. It's not exactly what people would call the best hang-out spot."

Evan laughs a little at this, but he doesn’t respond, opting to stay quiet and take in the sight, and the cool air in October peppers his body in goosebumps, but Evan doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around himself to keep a little warmer, though, and keeps walking until they find an apple tree that’s covered in bright yellow and orange leaves. “Let’s sit here,” Evan says, pointing to the base of the tree, and Connor hums in acknowledgement. They both settle down against the rough bark of the tree, and Evan takes this opportunity to press himself a little closer to Connor – for the body heat, of course. He blushes anyways, and panics a little inside, worried that his little crush on his best (and probably only) friend will become obvious. Connor doesn’t seem to mind, though, even going so far as to let out a quiet hum of contentment as Evan presses himself into Connor’s side.

They talk until night falls, watching the sun set over the horizon of bright orange trees behind an even brighter sky and somehow, Evan is leaning back on Connor’s chest by the time they start to leave. It starts with Evan stretching, checking his phone to notice that it’s late, before realising that it’s been hours since he’d felt what was usually the ever-present buzz of anxiety at the back of his mind. He thinks to himself that, yeah, he really, really likes having Connor around. Maybe more than he’s able to admit without sending himself into a fit of panic over being completely and irrevocably in love with his friend. His friend who made him calm, in ways he’d forgotten he could feel. His friend who had talked him down from anxiety attacks, and never made him feel bad for who he was. His friend that Evan could not deny was unfairly good-looking, even if nobody else seemed to see his beauty. He looks over his shoulder, straight into Connor’s eyes – because that was something he could do with Connor, and maybe his mom, and nobody else – and tells Connor that they should start to head home.

In response, Connor lets out a slight groan, stretching his back before standing up. As Evan walks next to him, he tries his best to not feel the loss of warmth that he had been revelling in before, from having Evan’s back pressed against his back. He’s not entirely sure how it happened, although it had to do with the tree being uncomfortable to lean back on, and something about how Evan had gotten noticeably cold. He’s not sure who suggested or initiated it, but it was comfortable, and warm, and comforting and just perfect. It was perfect in ways he didn’t think his life could feel. Connor wonders what it would feel like to hold Evan’s hand in his. To just display casual affection with Evan, be able to touch him just a little more than platonically. A hand on a knee, or an arm around his waist. He really hopes that it wasn’t disgusting or pathetic for him to want this. He knows he’s hoping for too much when he finds himself wishing that maybe Evan could feel the same way too.

They climb out of the apple orchard, sharing one last meaningful glance, as they sat on the fence while coveted in the darkness that had fallen quickly once the sun set, before jumping off to the other side. Connor starts up the car. A song that he recognises comes on, and he couldn’t think of a better ending to this day than drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the words “open your heart, I’m coming home” with Evan in the passenger seat.

That night, hours after Evan and Heidi have both gone to bed, Connor peeks into Evan’s room, making sure that he’s really asleep. He grabs his duffel bag, and whispers a ‘thanks’ into the darkness.

He leaves quietly, and slides the keys back under the door, like he’s planned to all that time ago.

The early morning air is freezing, and it’s only when the air hits him, his back against the closed door of the Hansen household, that he realises what he’s doing. But he has to do it. He has to, and he’s already gotten out the door, so he might as well keep going. Connor has a vague idea of places to go – there’s a parking lot behind a Denny’s and he’s been out on the streets enough time to know that the place is practically abandoned. Other than that, there’s the half-demolished playground that’s been slowly getting more and more blocked out by trees, to a point whereby the once-beaten path is now covered in plants. The playground itself is pretty in-tact, or at least the swings and maybe one slide, because the rest have either been removed or were in the process of being removed when people just gave up bothering to deconstruct it. He could spend his days there, since he couldn’t exactly show up to school and face Evan. He also knows a few bars and clubs that wouldn’t card him, where the less law-abiding half of his social circle spent their time. He could pass his time there, too. It wouldn’t be hard to bounce between abandoned areas and shady joints, rotating them around so that he wasn’t at any one location for too long.

And yet, despite all the possibilities that he knew he had, Connor actually felt nervous. He felt worried about the coming days or weeks or months. For how long could he live on the streets like this? He didn’t have that much money on him, or that many cigarettes, and he didn’t know how he’d get food or clean clothes or water in the long run.

But he couldn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care, when his legs were already carrying him to the Denny’s parking lot, where he’d just sit on the stone sidewalk and let the hours pass him by. 

His hands were shaking at the biting cold. He shoves them deeper into his pockets. 

He doesn’t stop shaking.

The ground bites into his skin through his jeans.

There are tiny pebbles on the ground. He learns that pressing them into his skin leaves little, short-lived indentations.  
A man parks his beat-down car in the parking lot. Connor notices that he doesn’t park very well, because his car is really slanted. The man gives him a pointed look, because nobody likes the homeless, it seems. Especially not men in beat-down cars who drive up to Denny’s at what had to be 4am. Connor didn’t bother to check the time. It wasn’t worth switching on his phone for.

When Connor leans backwards into the sidewalk, he feels pebbles get stuck in his hair, and he feels them dig into the back of his skull. The granite digs, too, and it feels a little uncomfortable, but at least it feels real. Unlike his hands. And his face. Those don’t feel very real at all.

Not knowing how time passes is an incredibly uncomfortable thing. Connor knows he can count to a minute with decent accuracy, but then minutes go on for so long, and hours go on for so many minutes, that Connor starts to doubt if he can really count at all.

He’s started counting backwards from 600, to know when 10 minutes may have passed.

At some point, he thinks he fell asleep. Or maybe not. At the very least, his body is asleep, and he wonders if he should wake it up.

He falls asleep, properly, while counting up to a thousand.

* * *

When Evan wakes, he’s more than a little uncomfortable that he’s being woken up by his mom, instead of Connor. Connor’s taken to waking him up for school every day in the last week. Hearing Heidi’s voice, for a change, was confusing enough. Hearing her speak the words, “Have you seen Connor? I think he might have left,” was even more confusing. Evan sits up with a jolt. He checks his phone. No new messages.

Connor’s not home, and he didn’t send Evan any texts about where he might be. 

Maybe he left a note?

Evan practically leaps out of bed and gets himself ready for school as quickly as he can manage, so that he has more time to fret over Connor, because he knows that that’ll take up a good chunk of his time.

As Evan gets ready for school, in a frenzy of complete muscle memory and racing thoughts, his mind is practically a whirlwind of questions.

_Why did Connor leave? Wasn’t he happy here? After all of yesterday, what made him leave?_

Evan speeds through a shower and brushes his teeth.

_Did I do something wrong? I thought he was happy, he seemed so content yesterday?_

He pulls a blue polo shirt over his head, and pulls on a nondescript pair of pants. He’s sweating.

_Did something happen to him? Does he hate me? Is he going to come back? Will he be alright?_

Evan lets his mom kiss him on the forehead before she leaves for work. “Tell me if you hear from Connor. I’m worried about him.” He nods, but doesn’t make eye contact and doesn’t say anything in return.

_Why didn’t he just talk to me? He should’ve just said something! Why did he have to leave?_

* * *

The glare of the sun is what wakes Connor up, and he hardly remembers getting here the night before. The chirping of birds feels distant. His body feels sore, but not quite. It will probably ache later.

His limbs are numb, and his throat is dry. He finds a bottle of water in his duffle bag. He’ll have to thank himself for not being a complete idiot, he thinks, as he takes a sip. It’s good that it’s October, because the weather isn’t too hot, and Connor might just survive on the streets, even though the nights are colder than he’d like and his clothes are covered in withered and rotting leaves from laying out in the street all night.

The sun is up, he thinks to himself, which means that Evan and Heidi must have woken up by now. He wonders if he should have left a letter or a text to let them know that he was going to be okay.

Somehow, he convinces himself that they wouldn’t lose sleep over him.

He lays back down on his back, shielding his eyes with an arm. It’s too early. He doesn’t want to move. He never wants to move again.

The way the ground digs into the back of his scalp is a little comfortable.

* * *

Evan confirms, after rummaging through the entire house for a second time that morning, that Connor was gone without a trace. Having confirmed that as best as he could, he grabs his school bag and practically sprints to school. On his way, he sends a text to Jared that read ‘Need help. Connors gone”.

For once, bursting in through the double doors of the school isn’t quite as daunting as it usually is. Evan doesn’t even bat an eye at the numerous students who turn to look at him, as he slammed the doors open, panting and sweaty. He immediately walks towards Jared’s locker, and he almost cries in relief when he sees that Jared is there, and talking to Alana.

“Jared!”

“Woah there, Evan, slow down! I got your text, whadyou mean ‘he’s gone’?”

“I woke up…and he…wasn’t there…” Evan manages to say, between gasps for air. “All his stuff’s…gone.”

Alana’s still there, and she might have been irked at having her conversation so rudely interrupted, if she wasn’t smart enough to understand what was being said. “Connor’s gone?” she asks.

“Yeah, I-I-I don’t know w-what to do? How do I look f-for him, w-where to look,” Evan says, and it’s clear even to Jared that he might actually be more freaked out than usual.

“I can ask Zoe about it. She’s his sister, she knows more about him than we might,” Alana offers.

“You’re close to Zoe?” Evan asks, desperate for anything that might be able to bring him some sort of relief and clarity regarding Connor.

“Yeah, I sometimes tutor her on biology if she doesn’t get anything. I have her number and can ask her on your behalf,” Alana says, and Evan is so, so thankful that he’s got Alana as a friend because of how eager she is to help.

“Thank you,” Evan says, and he sounds like he just might cry.

Jared sees that Evan’s worked up and worried, and understandably so. Friend, family friend or whatever, he cares about Evan more than he’d like to admit, so he puts a hand on Evan’s shoulder, and says “Dude, don’t worry about it. We’ll try to do what we can, but for now, let’s get to class.” His voice is softer than it usually is, because he knows that Evan doesn’t need to feel any more riled up than he already is.

“Yeah, okay…yeah. Thanks Jared, thank you Alana,” Evan murmurs. Jared uses his hold on Evan’s shoulder to steer him towards his own locker, waving a goodbye to Alana in the process, who smiles in return. The morning bell rings soon enough, and Jared walks with him into their shared first period.

* * *

Connor wakes up again, unaware he even fell asleep to begin with. The view here is getting boring, and everyone’s probably at school by now, so Connor figures he might take a walk. 

He feels weak, and it’s as if his body can barely move, but it does. His bones are as heavy as stone. He wants to lie back down, but he thinks he’d prefer somewhere softer, and goes to find the closest forested area. Grass is at least a little better than pavement.

He drags his feet over the floor, and the soles of his shoes make a satisfying scratching sound with every step.

He keeps walking, although he’s not entirely sure he knows where he’s headed.

If he keeps walking straight, he’ll find a grassy area eventually, right?

The sun may be bright but he feels really, really cold.

* * *

Evan feels like he’s going insane. He feels himself focusing on everything except for the teacher’s droning voice. Some people are taking notes, and the _skrtch-skrtch_ sounds of their pens on paper are putting him on edge. Evan finds himself clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to obtain some degree of self-control. The boy sitting right behind him has always had a habit of tapping his foot against the floor in class. Sure, it’s gotten annoying before, but right now, Evan’s pretty sure it’s going to be the reason he starts crying in the midst of class. Everything just grates against him, it’s as if his brain has become hyper-aware of every little thing, and he’s just seconds from imploding which, as always, means that he’s seconds away from having a really ugly crying-fit-cum-panic-attack, and he’s really, really not in the mood for one.

The vibration in his pocket makes him jump, and he only barely manages to conceal it from the teacher who doesn’t seem interested in addressing the class, only in reading from his laptop screen. Evan decides he’s too unfocused for it to matter if he looks at his phone or not.

‘1 New Message’ the screen read. Evan swiped to unlock his phone, then tapped on the notification. The message was from an unsaved number.

‘Evan, this is Zoe. I got your number from Alana. She told me you were freaking out that Connor disappeared this morning. I don’t know where he goes, and he’s not home, that’s for sure. But this happens with Connor. In fact, it happens a LOT. So dw!! He usually turns up after a couple of days, most times high off his ass, but he’ll be fine. Lmk when he gets back, though? And text me if you need anything. My brother’s a pain in the ass, so I’ll be here if you wanna talk! ^^’

Evan’s so relieved he could cry. Connor just disappears sometimes, but he’s probably safe. He’ll be back in a couple of days.

He’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter may be the last. the plot was supposed to be longer but this fic is draining me emotionally so just message me if you wanna know what the entire plan was meant to be, or be satisfied with where it ends?

**Author's Note:**

> This story will update fortnightly, and is ending soon :0


End file.
